Posted in Life, Writing


Bonne année !

It’s been more than a year since I’ve left a mark ’round these parts. I’ve tried to break the silence on multiple occasions since my last post – believe me. WordPress kindly reminds me in its upper left corner that I have 9 drafts of as-yet-unfinished blog posts. I’ve sat down to my desk several times with the intention of putting out a poem, or journal entry, or something of that nature, only to be fruitless and distracted.

Great detail would be time-consuming, so the abridgment of this update is that I’ve had some major, major changes happen in my life in my absence.

Shortly after my last post, something devastating and gut-wrenching happened. It launched me into several months of ensuing depression, uncertainty, and self-discovery. Then, something beautiful was founded on the pretense of the void, and from that, I’ve continued to build myself back up and take stock. I’ll remain vague and cryptic about this and leave it up to your interpretation, for now. Details to come later, probably.

I will disclose two positives that transpired in 2018. I traveled solo for the first time in February; I took a four-day trip to San Francisco and stayed in a travelers’ hostel. It was an incredibly liberating and much-needed experience, which was nearly last-minute in its fruition. It was the first time I’ve ever found myself navigating a cityscape and place that was alien to me; this forced me out of my comfort zone in order to fully immerse myself in the experience. I relied heavily on public transit and local culture to feel as close to a resident as I possibly could. While it was daunting at times, I came home with a newfound sense of pride and the knowledge that I’m capable of more than I’d previously given myself credit for.

And speaking of expanding horizons, seven months after the trip, I picked up shop and hauled ass across the country, where I now live in Seattle, Washington. It’s been three months as a Washingtonian, and sometimes I still feel like I’m on an extended vacation. The discomfort I felt in the beginning, which still rears its ugly head at times, is a positive one. In the absence of contentment, after all, we grow.

I’ll be back soon and hopefully more regularly, to share and chronicle my journey in finding my feet as a Seattleite. I hope the last year has been one of forward-movement and progress for all of you.

À bientôt. 

Posted in Poetry, Writing


Envy paints me like a forest;

lush and vast and green

Sadness blues my skeleton

from buried bone to glacier creek

And nothing

congregates the masses like carnage

fusing into bile brown

It smells of death

but to them

it looks like love

via Daily Prompt: Planet

Posted in Poetry, Writing


My skin burns

with the tinge of passion

Green-lit by a system of nerves

But this moment is fleeting

and by the next

It has me by the neck

and I am dragged by the nape

to the ends of an abysmal room

Where I will stand and serve

where I will sit and loom

Should she have forgotten

to wire me capable of joy

and instead

A surplus of marked confusion and

utter dread

If I don’t have a handle on

the emotions I’d been spoon-fed

Then perhaps it’d be best

that I renounce my position

in the blanks of the margins

Where bliss grows like wheat

wilts slow

and weighs heavy as lead

Posted in Pocket Poetry, Poetry, Writing


Dancing on an orange rind

picking bits of zest out from

between the toes

Flicking them off starboard

What’s happened to the flesh

is anybody’s guess

It may have been eaten

in a citrus-y mess

I am out of ideas

but keep dancing I do

to create the illusion

that I am not plagued by

constant confusion

Posted in Poetry, Writing


Tell me

Does it embarrass you

That your son fancies lovely things?

He’s not a brick breaker

Like his father

Or his father before him

But he wears the seasons

On his fingers and toes


Should the mood arise

And he knows

That you’re a product of your era

And he cannot blame you

Nor is he inclined to

But the blood’s

A little thinner

Between you now

The heart has to

Pump a little harder


The lashes sting

A little less

Now that they’ve become

The yolk to your egg

The routine

And he has all but

Lost his marbles

In a panic

He tries to collect them

Like little bits

Of a rolling sky

That used to be blue

For him

For me

Posted in Poetry, Writing

Negative Current

I make jokes in self defense

Most of the time,

I don’t make sense

to anyone but me

But that’s the draw, the intrigue

I drink tea that’s

steeped in dreams

To regulate the breath I



it’s too much too soon

And I’m half a mile

past the moon

You’re a tree, and

I’m your branch

bur we’ll parish if not rooted

at the stance

We’ll grow separately

But that’s the pull,

the mystery

There’s proof within

the insulation

That we are more than our


We are cut from

the same mold

Dying young in clothes

of gold

Posted in Poetry, Writing


I’m mere feet from home,

but that doesn’t make me safe.

I think before I act,

but that doesn’t make me wise.

I’m far beneath the sky,

but that doesn’t make me grounded.

I don’t always tell the truth,

but that doesn’t make them lies.

Posted in Poetry, Writing

The Equation

Fucked up.

We are both fucked up.

Idiosyncrasies rushing over

like schools of fish

caught in a current.

Psychoses biting down

on our heads

like piranhas,

drawing blood.

We found common ground

in our mutual self-hatred,

and from it

we built love.

Fucked up,




Together, we became

the piranhas,


on the school

of fish.


Posted in Food, Poetry, Writing


Nose-deep in a slice of any type,

and I am made a happy man

in that moment.

Savor every second.

Lest the final crumb disappears

in my gullet,

and back to reality I run.

via Daily Prompt: Cake

Posted in Foreign Language, Poetry, Writing

Le trottoir

J’ai fait une petite promenade

à côté de la rue

car c’est où

on peut regarder le monde

pendant qu’il passe

via Daily Prompt: Sidewalk