#jonathan moya

The Purple Glass

The Thing Is wrote The Thing Is after watching ash fall from a burned letter and realizing how grief behaves like sediment — heavy, particulate, and impossible to swallow. The poem explores how matter carries emotion when language refuses to.

Poembackup 3

Free Fall This poem began with the objects—door, hinge, roof, bucket—each one failing in its own small way. I wrote it to expose how the body carries damage the same way a house does: quietly, structurally, without asking for sympathy....

The Lantern’s Vigil This poem began as a study of ritual and light—how grief moves through objects without naming itself. I wanted the river to do the speaking, to let the lanterns fail quietly and completely....

A Child’s Toys I wrote A Child’s Toys after passing an encampment beneath an overpass where discarded playthings mirrored the fragility of shelter. The poem traces how innocence collapses into survival, how the compass of childhood still spins in ruin.

A Night of Rain

The Watching