Let Go? Or Let Go… A Chapbook (2025)
What happens when the life you built evaporates overnight?
What does it mean to keep going when everything has stopped?
Maybe you know the feeling: Waking up at noon, staring at the ceiling, sending out applications that vanish into silence, watching time stretch until it swallows whole days. Maybe you’ve been cut loose, left to wonder if you still matter, if you’re still you.
Let Go? or Let Go... is written for that season. These poems sit beside you in the stillness, naming the ache and the fog, but also the faint rhythm that remains beneath it. They remind you that even when life freezes over, ice remembers motion.
This isn’t a manual for getting ahead, but a hand extended in the quiet, a mirror that says: you are not alone. And when the thaw comes, you’ll know that stillness isn’t emptiness, but space.
And in that space, you are still here.
Told in two voices — human and water — Let Go or Let Go… is a lyrical meditation on collapse, renewal, and the strange grace of being forced to stop. Through verse, narrative fragments, spiritual echoes, and ancestral currents, this chapbook traces the emotional and metaphysical terrain of unemployment, disappointment, and rebirth.
The Color of Stillness, Or One… at a Time: A Short Story Collection
When momentum stops, what becomes of us?
What if the fiercest change didn’t happen in a burst — but in the quiet between breaths?
A short story collection about what happens when momentum disappears-and what quietly replaces it.
Set in the aftermath of loss, burnout, and stalled expectation, these stories follow characters who are no longer chasing transformation so much as learning how to stay. A man returns to the gym not to be impressive, but to survive. A late-night bowler counts frames instead of memories. A music festival becomes a threshold rather than an escape. Across each piece, ritual replaces resolution, and repetition becomes a form of care.
The collection moves through moments of physical exertion, waiting rooms, empty hours, and small, private victories. Time is elastic here-sometimes dragging, sometimes collapsing and stillness is not treated as absence, but as a necessary condition for change. Progress appears slowly, often out of order, and rarely announces itself.
Structured around call and response, the stories echo one another thematically rather than narratively, allowing ideas of grief, discipline, faith, and self-trust to resurface in different registers. The result is less a linear arc than a constellation, each story standing alone, yet in conversation with the rest.