Philosophical Crumbs | Sam Wilson | Substack

Desist, my soul, the dirt you scratch and pry is cracked and beat to dryness with the dust.

Dec 24, 2025 • Sam Wilson

Wading into deeper waters. The suck of cold, black streams. The bristling palmiets barbing at our ankles, splayed beneath my step: as if trampling were…

Nov 7, 2025 • Sam Wilson

The Troubadour on his Deathbed

There are such songs I long to sing, and a house I long to visit — there is a heart I ought to bring: it beats unseen still lodged between my weak…

Oct 30, 2025 • Sam Wilson

It stole my sandal yesterday, the sea.

Sep 15, 2025 • Sam Wilson

The Ex-Pharisee to his Lord

My Lord, I've waxed and scrubbed the doorposts now for decades. They can't deter the angel's blade. Please paint them with your blood. I've spent more…

Sep 8, 2025 • Sam Wilson

Philosophical Crumbs

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