Tag: books
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Letter from the Ironwood
A love letter carved on ironwood bark drifted downstream and arrived the exact morning she decided never to return. Sena stood on the last plank of the floating landing at Lanternreed, her small bundle already tied. The river moved slow and brown beneath her, carrying fallen leaves and the smell of wet clay. Today she…
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The Whispering Rafters – 2 – The Whistle in the Canopy
A whistle after dark is never a bird; it is the forest testing whether your voice is worth stealing. The shutters had stayed closed since the cicadas fell silent. Salt still lay in thin white lines along every sill. The red thread around each brother’s wrist felt warm against the skin, a small steady pulse…
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The Whispering Rafters – 1 – The Sundown Threshold
They warned the boys never to leave a window open when the cicadas fell silent, for the shadows that slipped inside no longer knew how to walk. In the Engkabang foothills the stilt-house stood on ironwood posts above the slow green river. At ordinary dusk the air still hummed with insects and the soft rush…
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Midday Brews and Broken Promises: A Coffee Table Conversation
Twelve o’clock on the clock meant the fierce tropical sun was directly overhead, yet the silence between them felt frostier than any mountain peak. Lina placed the single ceramic cup of sweetened local coffee in the exact center of the weathered teak table. The steam rose in a thin, trembling column. Bello did not reach…
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PALE CROWN II
A Borneo Trilogy in Verse These pages cameafter I had listened longer than I spoke,the quiet gathering its own weightin the space between breaths. The climb is real—real as the dream that lingerswhen you wakestill tasting thinner air on your tongue. II. PATH THROUGH THE CANOPY A Lyric Sequence BOOK ONE: The Three Rivers Lost…
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PALE CROWN
A Borneo Trilogy in Verse This is not the history of any single people.It is the heat left in the palmafter the shaking stops—the kind that will not let the drumssound the way they used to. What remains is neither truce nor victory.Only a scar that did not heal clean,a blade that now carries two…
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ASH AND CHARCOAL III
The Longhouse Trilogy I did not set out to write a story about fire. I set out to write about what remains when the fire has done its work—the ash that clings to the tongue, the charcoal that stays under the nails, the beads that click against a collarbone long after the body that once…
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ASH AND CHARCOAL
The Longhouse Trilogy I. THE CRIMSON LONGHOUSEA Lyric Trilogy for Anya BOOK ONE: Ash in the Mouth The MarkerThe Night The moon turned the color of a woundthat never quite closed.Smoke climbed in gray columns.Ironwood pillars split and leaned.Sparks rose like restless insects.The longhouse burned.No one asked the night for leave.