Sometimes, when I’m not writing ads, I write poetry.

The following two poems were written shortly after each of my grandmothers’ passings as way to process the grief, and honor both the women and their massive influence on my identity.
———

The House on Hillcrest Road

Chasing memories
Like cats in the yard
Present and meowing
But refusing to be held

A TV in a corner
A chair in front
Hours spent playing Nintendo
Tetris was my confidante

Sunday supper
House aglow
Pasta bowls and coyote calls
Can’t go out at night

The clank of metal tools
Drops of oil and grease
Building and fixing
Always with hands, tools be damned

Shake and bake
But dad says it’s no good
Stuffed peppers before brownies
Late night spatula licks

A signed baseball sitting on a shelf
Collecting more dust than autographs
Below it buzzes an old television
And the serenade of striking out

Totter down the rickety staircase
Spooked by the shadows dancing down below
Was that a cat or was that a ghost?
Maddy says ghosts aren’t real

Find the drum set
Then the drum sticks
What’s a beat?
Beats me, just play

Sleep under the quilt, not on top
Don’t mind the dolls
Sure they’ll watch you sleep
But they don’t mean any harm

Donuts in the morning
Don’t tell mom
Folgers brewing loudly
Bubbly brown bitter grownup stuff

Memories break and fall away
Like the stone steps in the back
Worn and weathered, chipped and broken
But what if that’s all that’s left?

Wonderful

Long distance phone calls
Distance didn’t dictate closeness
First pen pal over email
Rhyming Gram Sam greetings

Trading scrunchies on the floor
Make the perfect sales pitch
Shared love of shimmer
Holographic hair tie

Paint program play time
Pixel perfect mischief
Making mirth more than art
A finer form of expression

Passing poems like notes in class
MadLibs till the morning
Dictionary guessing games
The word was logophile

Feminism and politics
Prose on pros of protesting
Working the polls every election
Like a seasonal club dancer

Hot water with lemon before bed
Yuengling in the fridge
Bloody Mary at the bar
Glass permanently half full

Painted wicker furniture
A house full of whimsy
Light leaks in, bringing life
Stained glass birds singing

Grandfather clock in the corner
Wind it every week
Talk to John with every turn
Always forward, never back

Telling tales of time abroad
Stoke the flames of wonder
Wander on, far and further
But just as close as always

Be your own best friend
But you’re my kindred spirit
Call out bullshit, flip the bird
But never miss what’s

Wonderful.

Wanderlust

You’re a map I want to memorize
Cartography that could lead me anywhere
Without ever hitting a dead end

I want to explore your every intersection
Soak in each stream of consciousness
And get lost along your coastlines

I want to wander through your valleys
See the world from your most weathered peaks
Discover the unchartered territories, together.

Little Dams

Little Dams are a collection of couplets (and occasionally triplets, and even a whole stanza or two!) I’ve been writing since moving to Amsterdam in Summer 2022. Unfortunately, the time I’ve spent here has featured some of the greatest challenges of my life thus far, so some of these are a bit darker.

———

Maybe we should make the biggest investment of our lives
Maybe we’ve just made the biggest mistake of our lives

-

Oscillating wildly between thinking this is where I belong
And what if I’m completely wrong

-

They say home is where the heart is
They never said it had to be in one piece

-

Cross the country
Then an ocean
You’ve only just begun

-

Are we supposed to smile this much
On a rainy Monday morning

-

He left without me
Without any idea
That he took me too

-

Gray morning light
Spent mourning what wasn’t
And what will never be

-

Willows in the water
Reflections and refractions
Illuminate what lies within

-

One of the best skills in life
Is the ability to fall in love
With wherever you live

-

I had to write about joy
Without it

-

Sometimes when you visit my dreams
I wonder if I visit yours too

-

It’s kinda funny how loss
Can leave you so heavy

-

Do you ever think about
The flowers that grow between us?