Not the label sewn on the inside,  but the hands that passed it down—  Not the boots that walked first,  but how far they let you roam.   We measured riches  in treehouse kingdoms,  in second helpings,  in stories from...

So stain—as marks that remain longer than intent,and hesitation pressed into the grain. Second guess,doubt’s small fracture widening,as though the Voice were drowned,as though we mistook the silencefor absence. But sustain is not the clean note held—it is the rough edge,the...

  Sea takes hold of me— a pale star through drifting fog, my chest becomes wind.   Storm breaks in my bones, timbers groan, rain lashes skin, I am the vessel.   Then the waters still, a mirror without a sound, my despair reflected.         .