Author’s Note

This piece came from noticing something I’ve always lived with rather than consciously examined.

My mind does not move in straight lines.

It wanders, it loops, it returns with things I didn’t ask for, and it sometimes disappears long enough that I start to notice the absence more than the presence. I used to frame that as inconsistency or distraction, but over time I’ve come to understand it less as a flaw and more as a kind of behavior—unpredictable, but not unkind.

The metaphor of a dog off leash wasn’t planned. It just appeared, which feels accurate to how most of my writing actually happens. I don’t usually “decide” on metaphors so much as I notice what my thoughts are already doing and try to follow them closely enough to write it down before they change direction.

What I like about this piece is that it doesn’t try to correct the mind.

It doesn’t punish it for wandering, or romanticize it into something effortless and poetic. It just observes it as something alive—sometimes useful, sometimes disruptive, always moving.

There’s a strange honesty in accepting that not every thought arrives politely, and not every idea shows up when invited. Some of them run ahead. Some of them dig things up that were better left buried. Some of them come back with exactly what I needed without me knowing I needed it.

And I think part of growing up, creatively and otherwise, is learning not just how to control that process—but how to live alongside it without turning it into an enemy.

So this piece is, in a way, an act of recognition.

Not mastery.

Just recognition.

— Rowan Evans

Off Leash Thought
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I like to let my mind
wander sometimes—
like a dog off leash.
It chases thoughts
like cars,
and makes a mess
wherever it goes.

Sometimes it comes back
with ideas like sticks.
Sometimes it’s problems
I can’t dismiss.

It returns to me panting,
proud of whatever it found.
I always forgive it.
It’s only doing what it knows.

Last week it ran off
and didn’t come back for hours.
Sometimes it digs holes
in places I didn’t want to revisit.

But—

Most days it behaves.
Some days it bites.
Some days I wish I could leash it.
Most days I’m glad I can’t.

Sometimes it likes to play fetch,
I throw away an idea—
it brings it right back,
like I have to write that.

Journey into the Hexverse…

[Monster Theology]
What if the monsters under the bed weren’t monsters at all? Monster Theology explores difference, belonging, and the human tendency to fear what we don’t understand through a conversation with the creatures we’ve spent our lives imagining.

[Danny Phantom Theology]
What begins as a metaphor borrowed from a childhood cartoon becomes something deeper: a reflection on existing between survival and possibility, exhaustion and hope, the life we have and the life we long for. Danny Phantom Theology explores what it means to keep moving toward a future that feels worth living.

[Lone Wolf Theology]
A philosophical pop-culture poem exploring freedom, identity, and self-authorship through the lens of superheroes, antiheroes, mythic archetypes, and personal rebellion. A declaration of autonomy in a world determined to write your story for you.

[I Write Cathedrals]
“I Write Cathedrals” explores faith, doubt, belonging, and the search for meaning beyond certainty. Through Gothic spiritual imagery and confessional reflection, the poem examines how writing can become a sacred space for questioning, wonder, and the people who feel displaced by traditional structures of belief.

[The Needle Doesn’t Point North]
“The Needle Doesn’t Point North” is a deeply personal free verse poem about displacement, identity, and spending a lifetime feeling emotionally disconnected from the place you were born while being drawn toward distant shores.

If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]