I call this collection The Unfettering.
For me, writing is all about
making tangible the wraiths of
depression and regret, of
helplessness and isolation.
From above, these profound gulfs
are nothing more than a vast,
wasted capacity for love.
To feel empty is to have once been filled.
When I am happy,
my pen dries up,
or rather, is set
to another purpose.
