T. S. Eliot
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Unsurprisingly, the new year did not usher in a slower season of life. Any resolution to visit The Deepening Ground more regularly to leave poetic breadcrumbs that lead out of the suffocating press of modernity failed within days of the calendar flipping to 2026. That’s not to say that I wasn’t writing nor that I…
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On Valentine’s Day I became a grandfather. Our first grandson! My wife was blessed to be there to prepare for and help with the delivery, as well as provide extra support for the first week of Liam’s life. By late spring, I will be a grandfather twice over when we welcome our second grandson into…
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Amid the blurring pace of life racing towards the finish line of another school year, I came upon this unpublished The Guardian Photo of the Day poem I composed back in 2019. I agree with T. S. Eliot: “April is the cruellest month,” with weekly timed essays to grade in AP English, final speeches to…
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Arriving late for Christmas day itself, like the magi that arrived much later at the door to Jesus’ home (see Matthew 2:1-12), I come bearing three gifts: two poems and a song. I have spent the last seven days savoring time with family between my son’s wedding and celebrating Christmas itself. If you have a…
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For weeks now, there has been silence – the stationary pen that only marks the page of my journal when I nod off in bed. Some call it writer’s block; I call it “the dehydrated soul groping about in desert landscapes.” I feel like one of T. S. Eliot’s hollow men. I am a dried…
the deepening ground 