Where the Sentence Breaks, I Begin
Soulcruzer
You describe the poet not as a custodian of nation or nostalgia but as a cartographer of fracture. A maker of forms that fail beautifully. A being that crosses over…
Poetry
where there is no map
i haven’t written a haibun in a while. I step into the weekend like a question. No itinerary. No certainty. Just the hush of morning and the feel of earth…
Sunrise and Elephant Grass
Here’s a short reflection I had sipping coffee watching the sun rise through the elephant grass… We come from the Unknown,and we carry its dust in our bones.Born of stars…
The Rhythm of Becoming: Patience. Release. Surrender.
Somewhere between the womb and the wave,between the clenched fist and the open hand,there is a rhythm. It is not rushed.It is not forced.It is the rhythm of becoming. This…
a layered meditation on creativity, improvisation, and interconnection
this ongoing remix practice (of mine)is the heartbeat of evolution itself,a rhythmic, recursive dance of becoming (what am i becoming?). it feels like an innate biological imperativewoven deep into my…