Now in The Vow: Spring Sea
A small poem from The Vow, Spring Sea reduces return to its barest motion: the sea lifting what it cannot keep, laying it down again, and moving without grief or mercy. It is a poem of recurrence, surrender, and the quiet intelligence of water.
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Also in The Lantern Chronicles
What the Hand Knew
In a room gone blue with evening, a hand moves before thought. What the Hand Knew is a quiet poem of bodily recognition: the beloved beside us, ordinary and unaware, while touch remembers home before the mind can arrive.
The Hut We Carry With Us
A Living Way essay on Kamo no Chomei, Hojoki, solitude, refuge, and the danger of becoming attached to the very life that saved us. The hut may shelter the soul from the noise of the world — but it may also become another possession.
Fires of the Old World XV — The Serpent-River Dance
A hearthlit retelling of Krishna and Kaliya, the poisoned river, and the child who danced on the serpent’s hood until the water breathed again.
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On The Lantern Chronicles, I gather writings from Angkor, myth and legend, contemplative essays, and poetry — works shaped by silence, beauty, wonder, memory, and the deeper questions that follow us through the world.
It is a place for stone and story, reflection and vow, shadow and revelation.
You would be most welcome there.