Poems & Stories

Snow/Grove

Snow/Grove (3.21.20)In late winter, when Hope thawsAnd cumbersome Ice grows weary,Impeded by glass—surrounded by wood,Longing to leave sight so dreary. Knowing no degree nor warmth, I glimpsed, robbing its strange vision Whether snow or sleet, I queried  Unsure, hanging its indecision.  Hoping it not Winter’s final complaint,  I grasped its faint forms.Capturing those bantam saints,Knowing no longer to mourn. … Continue reading Snow/Grove

Life/Leaves

Life/Leaves [3.13.2020] What tis’ the sound, a soft crackle behind.I shudder and twist, to see its working mind.A sound soft and sharp, must be of some form—A Being lurking, with ill intent inside.Quizzing my sight, rolling my eyes,Hunting for its home.Its source—alive! I must be forthright!As my eyes began to comb. Panning, perusing, obsessing, at… Continue reading Life/Leaves

The Change of Nothing (A Short Story)

*Written on February 24th, 2020. The Change of Nothing (A Short Story) He sat amidst a swirl of voices. The voices were muddled and punctually interrupted by the sound of an espresso machine—“crrrshee!”—before returning the their homeostatic melody. He’d been there for some time, books splaying in different directions, carving a semi-circle round him. One… Continue reading The Change of Nothing (A Short Story)

Hooded Hawks, Blinking Owls

*This poem was inspired by a poem of Percy Shelley’s in a letter to Maria Gisborne concerning the Engish Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

These Waxy Leaves (Again) [Poem & Reflection]

*Written November 22nd, 2019. I haven’t done much writing recently, at least not for enjoyment or improvement purposes. I’ve noticed that my personal reading, writing, and thinking rekindle my passion for study, and most importantly, for living. They enliven me, bring hope, and sometimes, a touch of joy. Like the cool drops of water gliding… Continue reading These Waxy Leaves (Again) [Poem & Reflection]

Spring Air

*Written on February 6th, 2019. I wrote this poem in one sitting, as I do most of my poems. For some reason, I have an aversion to editing poems after the first draft. This isn’t an excuse for bad poetry; it’s just me protecting my Romantic tendencies I guess. I’ve discovered that poetry allows my… Continue reading Spring Air

Morning

*This was written on May, 20th 2018. I stumble through the dark hallwayminding the slight ache in my headto find the coffee unmade. What with usual ease is done laboriously. I sit down on the cold couchminding the assortment of misplaced pillows to find my mind clear.What was done laboriously now with easeand clarity.