On his way out the door, a friend of mine made it a point to pull up a chair next to me at the counter and recite his latest poems. I noticed his pocket notebook was thicker than the last. He said he had to make room for his future poems, especially when inspiration hit. One morning I woke up to a text message sent at 4 AM - a poem a friend wrote after waking up from a dream.

A friend thanked me for the advice that I didn’t give him. I merely told him that only he could truly know what he wanted or needed to do in his life.

One of my oldest friends from high school sent me a letter recently, sharing a memory of me giving her a hug when she came back to school after her mom had died. I’ve always known that we can’t say the right thing when someone is grieving. I also know that we choose how we show up for others when they are.

Gestating in the dark. A poem about emergence.

A chance encounter in a café becomes a meditation on grief, presence, and what it means to truly witness someone.

The griefs that go unnamed. The crossings no one gathers for. And the absence that is loud.

On divorce, dissolution, and discovering what it means to build a foundation that is truly your own.

On near-death experiences, inner fire, and reclaiming the muchness that was never meant to be buried.

On community, liminality, and what it means to hold space without fixing, judging, or shaping the outcome.

Words as spells. Seeds in dark earth. A voice coming into full bloom.

On living with intention instead of goals, honoring winter's invitation to rest, and letting seeds steep until they're ready.

In darkness, stars shine. A poem about wildness and the constellations of your journey.

The origin story of The Moon of Your Heart — a love letter about healing, tarot, and finally living in your truth.

The Major Arcana as mirrors, portals, and thresholds. An invitation to stop learning tarot and start living it.

On The Fool archetype, dandelion seeds, and the transformative power of leaping into the unknown.