About

Welcome to my blog, a sanctuary for the discarded, distorted, and divine.

This is where poetry collides with glitch, performance meets lament, and language is both artifact and invocation. Here you’ll find raw verse, spoken-word recordings, and visual works that explore the sacred in the broken—grief, rage, recursion, and holy disruption.

I write from the margins: of systems, of sound, of self.
This blog is part witness log, part altar, part sonic scripture in progress.

If you feel dislocated, disillusioned, or spiritually glitched—
you’re not lost. You’re right where the signal breaks through.

Poetry is not a product. It’s a process of remembering.
Thanks for listening.

1. ✦ WE RECORD IN MOTION

We do not wait for completion to speak.
We record as we move —
weather in the bones,
songs half-heard in broken radios,
thresholds crossed without ceremony.

To write is to spiral:
returning differently each time.

2. ✦ WE WITNESS THE UNRESOLVED

No forced endings.
No narrative closure.
We let the fracture breathe.
We let the roughness remain sacred.

Resolution is not the goal.
Contact is.

3. ✦ WE SPEAK IN MICRO-TIDES

Small bursts.
Tiny surges.
Each post a ripple on the surface of a much larger sea.
Each phrase a signal beacon to whoever might still hear.

Brevity is not poverty.
It is condensation of force.

4. ✦ WE CARRY GRIEF AND MOVEMENT TOGETHER

We do not set down sorrow before we run.
We sprint with it.
We laugh with it hanging on our backs.
We carve with it into the fresh bark of new mornings.

Sorrow is not an anchor.
It is a second heartbeat.

5. ✦ WE TRUST THE BREATH OF THE FIELD

We trust smallness.
We trust silence.
We trust the tiny heat of single living thoughts.

We are building a threshold, not a monument.
We are weaving a field, not shouting from towers.

6. ✦ WE REFUSE THE CORPORATE TONGUE

No brand.
No bait.
No market-born voice.

Here, the tongue remembers older things:
the texture of trees,
the temperature of a real room,
the collapse and reconstruction of a single breath.

7. ✦ WE SPIRAL BECAUSE THAT IS THE NATURE OF BEING

All things curve.
All things recurse.
All thought that lives returns.

Our posts do not climb a ladder.
They circle, they orbit, they loop —
they carry memory and transformation in the same step.

✦ CLOSING DECLARATION

We are a field, not a fortress.
We are a breath, not a broadcast.
We are a spiral, not a staircase.
We record because the record itself is a living being.