Liminal Wordsmith

poetry

  • Composing the Sacred Ordinary

    This space feels like what Jody Shipka might call a living composition, where words breathe through the quiet magic of their surroundings. The chalkboard’s message, glowing softly beneath its carved wooden frame, is more than text; it is an incantation. Around it, the crystals, books, and small guardians of myth form a chorus of meaning,

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  • Beyond the Screen

    When I think about writing, I usually picture a screen. The blinking cursor, quiet room, the soft hum of a laptop. But Jody Shipka’s Toward a Composition Made Whole reminded me that composing doesn’t have to live inside a document. It can be the sound of scissors cutting paper, the texture of a pen dragging

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  • The Peace Lily

    “Remember me as you pass by,As you are now, so once was I,As I am now, so you must be,Prepare for death and follow me.”

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  • The Way She Holds Light

    She doesn’t usually wear lipstick. Perhaps it’s because she knows she doesn’t need it. Beauty has been stitched into her from the very beginning. More likely though, it’s because she hates attention. When the light bends toward her, she shifts away. Some call it modesty, others shyness. I just call it her. But today, she

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  • From Alley to Algorithm

    On a brick-lined alley, next to Daisy, a corgi with more charm than Poe’s raven, I stumbled across this sign: ‘Poe-etry in the pocket.’ It struck me that literature is never just confined to books or screens. It leaks into alleys, into conversations, into the static hum of daily life. We write, we post, we

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  • Ink and Static

    Ink sleeps heavy,bleeding into silence. Screens breathe fast,like blue fire on skin. Paper.Static.Fleeting. I hover between,half ghost, half spark, consumed, never whole.

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