Words are all we have.

–Samuel Beckett


For as long as I can remember, I have longed to live in a world where everyone thrives—where lives have dignity, dreams count, and stories matter. The possibility of this seems to fade with each passing 21st century day. So I turn to words: to connect dots, to bear witness, to celebrate and to lament.

I write in search of words that can speak my language of truth. I write to chart a path into the forest through the trees. I write because I believe that what we experience as individuals is wisdom we can-maybe even must-offer up to the world. The Buddha's last words, recorded by his followers, were: Transient are conditioned things. Try to accomplish your aim with diligence.

Words—and the alchemy that happens when they meet in line and stanza, paragraph and phrase—are what I have.




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