Starmoth Press

a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things

Tag: wordspells

  • Angst

    I know you’re upset

    But here

    I carved a space

    In my heart

    Meet me there 

    We’ll have tea

    Not too strong 

    So we can still 

    go to bed early

    We’ll talk about the 

    meaning of 

    Our matching fingerprints

    You scribble tears on your face

    With blue crayon

    They fall, rain from your cheeks

    Splash into your cup

    Allow me to drink it for you

    It’s been long enough

    You don’t have to do this alone

    “Wolf turn”

    Episode five of the podcast Living Practice is live 💕 catch it here or find it on your favorite podcast platform.

  • will you accept this payment

    tended the garden of this mind

    brains weren’t  extraordinary

    I cling to the title:

    gifted

    press the label onto my shirt

    hand lingers above my breast

    delusion

    the tag tied round my toe in the morgue

    it’s all I ever was…until, you know

    I wasn‘t

    plummeting grades, marks don’t matter

    blackout nights, herded by strangers

    bra stuffed with money

    and tear-stained fights

    this body became

    the sacrifice;

    payment on the altar of

    expectation

    color me surprised

    you roll your eyes

    not impressed

    tell me this

    is it enough yet?

  • where do you see reflections of yourself?

    Feet pull me out the door

    And wind runs fingers

    through my hair

    It’s familiar:

    this soft, electric air

    between the storms

    Damp earth sinks beneath me

    I fall into lush moss

    and vibrant greens

    alive with rain

    I see myself here

    reflected back

    by tree roots

    and budding leaves

    There is family here

    in heavy water drops

    and curious bird eyes

  • loving gaze

    Where it began: stilt houses

    Skeletal remains emerging

    from algae-green pools

    Awe blooming at heart level

    for faded places, forgotten

    I whisper “thank you for open eyes”

    now I lovingly see

    crooked barns

    crumbling factories

    boarded-up businesses

    debris piles left behind

    wild-torn houses

    places hold people, hold stories…

    and now no one is left

    to tend to these places,

    they were once a flurry of

    motion, aliveness, everyday mundanity

    now no one bothered

    to even tear them down

    burn remains

    memorialize their time here

    honor what was

  • Attention is magic: the leaf portal

    I’m sharing my writing in a new space on ig, attentionismagic. But I’ll also be sharing here and on substack.
    New stickers for the mail club just dropped. They’ll also be available to purchase separately. Check it out here

  • New fiction piece is live 💚

    I’m writing a serial fiction over on Substack. It’s called Dear Lila: Refraction Road. It’s a meditative, surreal journey through an imaginal world where I meet an…interesting group of companions. It’s weird and trippy, I would love if you checked it out! Once complete, it’s my dream to compile it, edit it and make a new collage for each segment to publish into a limited edition book 💚


    Read it here

  • The body is sacred: a poem


    There may be meaning to taking quick steps; walking in circles; making loops again and again.
    Our cells beg, they want acts of devotion radical care for the complex systems which make up a body.
    Our brain may resist, asking for stimulation, crying for satisfaction.
    For so long, you caved.
    Now you see light at the end of the tunnel. You know wisdom comes from your chest…your beating heart…your pumping blood. It’s drumbeat that sounds the call of your soul; you’re never-ending vibration.

  • Writing hymns to autumn

    And looking for the signs

  • For when moments slip through fingers like sand

    a poem written yesterday
    in a hurry
    because everything felt fleeting
    But that’s okay
    Each second is a molecule
    Slowly moving past my
    Point of perception
    We do what we can
    White-knuckle
    Grip on reality
    Try not to let
    The whirlwind yank us free
    But maybe it’d be better
    If we just let go.

  • Keep trying


    A poem on staying alive and present in a heart-shattering world. Every night I take a walk around sunset, and I almost always take photos of what I see to remember the moments that remind me of the interconnectedness of all things. It’s a reminder that we are all god, and all the space between all things is god, and at our basic level, we are all the same. As a recovering addict, it can be hard to witness this world that sees children and people dying and suffering in unjust ways. The moment I feel my cells buzzing with the call of brothers and sisters all across this planet, I know I am alive…if just for now. And I can keep going. And I will keep trying.