January Manual
–—By now, the illusion of control has thawed and refrozen into something sturdier. This is the day you stop pretending you’re steering…
January Manual
–—By now the body has caught up to the calendar. The fatigue isn’t dramatic; it’s mechanical. This poem is about residual weight…
January Manual
–—January begins without spectacle. Just light, habit, and the quiet agreement to continue. The morning arrives intact,no smoke, no echo, no debrisfrom…
The Quiet Season
–– The closing cup. Not a celebration, not a reckoning, just a clean ending. A moment held long enough to notice it…
The Quiet Season
–—The penultimate day. Not reflective yet, not anticipatory either. Just a quiet conversation with what’s coming, held over a cooling cup. You…
The Quiet Season
–—This is the subtle turn, the almost-imperceptible shift when the year stops collapsing inward and begins, quietly, to lean the other way.…
The Quiet Season
–—This is the day of quiet accounting; before gatherings, before noise, before expectation. A practical tenderness. A list not of possessions, but…
The Quiet Season
–—The day after the hinge. Nothing dramatic, no sudden brightness — just the subtle relief of knowing the worst of the dark…
The Quiet Season
–—This is the day when warmth becomes directional, something you hunt rather than receive. The cup cools unevenly, the room has gradients,…
The Quiet Season
–—This is the slow inhale before the solstice, when the evenings stretch to their limit and the dark feels deliberate, almost ceremonial,…
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