The Work Behind the Words
Finding Clarity in the Mess
Finding Clarity in the Mess Life rarely presents itself in neat lines. Most days arrive scattered — a mix o…
Finding Clarity in the Mess Life rarely presents itself in neat lines. Most days arrive scattered — a mix o…
How Ordinary Days Shape the Writing People often imagine writing as something driven by rare flashes of ins…
Learning to Trust the Slow Work There comes a point in life where you realise that not everything can be hu…
He has fallen more times than he can count. Each time the ground felt colder, each time the silence lasted lo…
Showing Up When the Muse Doesn’t There’s a myth that writing depends on inspiration — that the words arrive…
I never expected poetry to become part of my life. For years, it felt like something that belonged to other…
He sees you standing in a quiet room, the clock ticking softly beside you— a reminder that even s…
He moves through the day like a ghost in his own skin. The world keeps talking, but none of it lands. He smil…
The Days When the Page Pushes Back Every writer knows the quiet frustration of sitting down to work and fin…
There is a point where you stop measuring your life by what you are supposed to have and start pa…
He wakes with a storm already moving inside him. No warning. No reason. Just a pressure that makes the mornin…
Thoughts Behind the Poem: What Remains What Remains grew out of a simple but uncomfortable truth: most men …
What Remains He didn’t fall apart all at once. It happened slowly, quietly, in the kind of silence no on…
The Drafts No One Will Ever See Every writer carries a private archive. Not the polished pieces that eventu…
Thoughts Behind the Poem — What the Window Learns of Us This poem began with the idea of a witness that nev…