Author Information
“door in the air”
— Borderland Awakening
In a station that smells of coal and citrus,
the boy from the borderlands steps off the train
with a satchel full of paper that refuses to stay blank.
Ink runs faster than his pulse;
the platform dissolves into a field where crows rehearse their quarrels.
Somewhere in the distance, church bells debate the hour.
— The Magpie’s Court
She arrives in a city dressed in grey‑blue rain,
her pockets lined with rhymes too sharp to handle bare‑handed.
In the gaslit salon, painters argue with the colour yellow,
and she, the fire‑tongued exile, leans in to whisper a scandal
into the ear of a canvas.
The brush blushes, and the room falls silent.
— Rue Nicolet
A youth whose boots outpace his verses
races the wind down a crooked street.
Every storefront window spits back a different self —
saint, thief, heretic, prodigy —
until he turns the corner and becomes none of them,
just a shadow folding into the scent of bakeries.
— The Blue Notebook
In a boarding room above the marketplace,
the poet who spoke in tulip red
counts her days by the number of tea‑rings
spreading across the margin.
On the final page, she draws a door
no larger than her thumbnail,
and steps through without waking the ink.
