October 18, 2026
The first clear morning
The tide leaves a dark line
where the sand remembers.
We begin there —
with the small evidence
of what moved overnight.
A quieter register
Poetry
Small poems for the margins of the work — where attention lingers, language opens, and another kind of knowing takes shape.
Selected poems
September 30, 2026
Field notes for staying
Keep the window open.
Let the weather enter the question.
A pattern is not a promise,
but it can be a way
of finding one another.
September 11, 2026
After the numbers
There is a room behind every measure,
a hand on the chair,
a voice deciding whether to speak.
Look again.
The quiet is part of the record.
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