creative writing
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Dissolution
I unbutton my nameno longer a man The sky opens like a wound of lightand I walk into it backwardsfolding into the vibrationof a thousand forgotten heartsbeating in synclike a prayer underwater There is no IOnly weAnd then not even… Continue reading
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A Flower Opens
One flower opensnot in soil, but in sky It speaks in pollen tonguesand suddenlyspring spills sideways Windows forget their glassRivers remember their namesBirds dream in reverseand hatch from songs The sun blushesas if mortifiedwatching itself shine Everywherea soft uprising of… Continue reading
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A Silence That Sings
To see yourselfyou must disappear Fold the world inwardlike a paper swanand sit in the silencebetween your own thoughts On the surfacea face made of smoke & shoutingNot beautiful, not kindJust loud But dive deeperpast the noisepast the names you… Continue reading
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No Fragile Bloom
And then, a kiss – not merely breathBut something bound in life & deathA vow unsaid, a ghostly thrillThe moment before the world turns still Your lips were dusk, a sacred wineThe altar where our fates entwinedNo moon could cast… Continue reading
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Where the Deltas Meet
They say the old shoreline was once holy ground. Not holy in the churchyard sense, but older, deeper, like bones pressed into mud by centuries of unspoken prayers. No one builds there now. Not since the floodwaters came and never… Continue reading
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Let Heart Break Open
Beneath the hill where shadows spillA lantern sways in tomb-dark stillThe stone is rolled, the veil is tornThe sky forgets it once was morn They say the blood was not requiredNot tribute paid, but love inspiredNot wrath appeased by sacred… Continue reading
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Three Nights in the Hollow House
The old chapel on the hill was long abandoned. Moss devoured the bricks, and no one remembered the last time it held a service. But every year, during the Easter Triduum, he returned. They called him Elias. He arrived just… Continue reading
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Fragments, 5.21.25
There’s always something strange on my commute, but this Mother’s Day stood out like the sorest of thumbs. On the ride home, I passed a man walking along the sidewalk, casually gripping a machete. He looked menacing enough that, for… Continue reading
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Thou Art Known
It started the week he turned sixty-two. Like a light flickering in the chapel of his mind. Until then, Henry’s life had been a blur of deadlines and dinner tables, of ballgames and spreadsheets, of making sure the mortgage was… Continue reading
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The Field
They called her Sister Marianne, though she hadn’t worn a habit in years. The townspeople remembered her not for her sermons, but for the strange presence that followed her, something heavy, luminous, unsettling. They said if you stood too close… Continue reading
God Is In The Radio 