Starmoth Press

a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things

Tag: writing

  • Writing hymns to autumn

    And looking for the signs

  • The first breaths of autumn

  • Little journal

    Here is what’s going on in my insert for everyday tiny miracles hosted by Liz Lamoreux and Kelly Barton. Originally this was my insert for noticing on my daily walks, but we know how plans for notebooks go. This is a soft space I’m feeling very happy in at the moment.

  • we are doing things outside of our comfort zone

    Art started this morning after my morning pages live; then finished this afternoon once the bottom layers dried.
    A page from my new journal
    I finished this painting, first canvas done in a long time
    An update on my current journaling and sketchbook setup!
    @starmothcreates
    I’m doing my morning pages Monday through Fridays (at least) around 5:15am CST on TikTok live; you can join me there and work along if you like!

  • 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. 

  • Touch your forehead to mine

    I feel myself giving beauty away, offering myself whole-heartedly, bruised petals and all. Here is my heart. It is exploding for this world that could be so much more. Let’s put our heads together. Let’s imagine. Let’s build the worlds that will carry us far away from the place this has become.

  • embodied adventure

    Ponderings on an evening walk from 08/23/25

  • First pages, last pages

    Watch sketchbook flip thru

  • Messy journal pages

    All connected

    Fact or fiction

    Saints

    Catalog

    Observation

    Ephemera