Possibly this is not a time to make sense of things. So here's an essay anyway—on creative practice (and rest), from my monthly column at NicoleDieker.com.
Sometimes, There are Scars
We called down to hear a sound survive us: "Do not only fear."
At the Beloved River
Seasonal homecoming. A new poem. Some prose approaching a ritual I don't know how to commit to prose.
Beach Offerings & the Gift of Hearing Your Own Words
Some thoughts on ritual. Stuff collected on a beach-walk. An unexpected gift.
Sometimes it's good to be sad. Or angry. Or unsure. Let's go howl at the moon; it's full today.