Platform Four, Nowhere in Particular
Fort William, Scotland · Written in the rain
The timetable said twenty minutes. The sky said stay a while.
So I sat with a wet notebook and let the mountains finish the sentence I couldn't.
Postcards from the Road
Small poems and shorter stories, written wherever I happen to be sitting — station benches, night buses, borrowed balconies. No schedule. Just whatever the road hands me.
Loose Change
A bus station café · Late, as usual
Two coins, one coffee, and a stranger who wanted to talk about her son.
I paid for the coffee. She paid for the poem.
Paper Birds
Somewhere over the border · Folded at midnight
I keep folding the maps into birds so I can pretend I chose the direction.
They land where they land. I write from wherever that is.
E-letter Postcards
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