poetry
Framing the silence has become my life’s work. Who am I to call myself a poet? All I know is silence speaks a thousand stories, the challenge is knowing which one is true. Don’t look away: poetry isn’t always opaque. Sometimes it says exactly what you didn’t know you were feeling.

skrt skrt
2 Comments
Suffering through ninja kicks, prickly stubble and waves of love for my baby boy.

trying to get home
No Comments
A poem about trying to find your way home, reflected against the backdrop of a spawning salmon.