Last Updated: July 24, 2025
I’m writing, poetry mostly, with some loose threads of memoir and reflection woven in. I'm circling themes of devotion, fatigue, eroticism, and the quiet rituals that stitch together a day.
Back from work travel and solo rest, I’ve been craving stillness. I’m walking more, seeing friends, and trying to remember what kind of solitude feels restorative rather than isolating.
My day job occupies a lot of mental energy this summer. Sometimes this season is quiet, but working at an agency that tells stories through design and tech, this current cultural, political, and economic moment has kept us busy. I’m grateful. But yeah… tired.
I’m tending to my summer garden. I’ve let it overgrow in parts, but the eggplants, herbs, and zucchini are thriving. The wildflowers, though, aren’t taking. If you have suggestions, I’m listening.
I’m also wrangling my toddler: a full-contact sport, chaos in motion, unrelenting. But her revelations are mine too, and I’m learning how to stay soft through it.
I’m midway through Orlando by Virginia Woolf and rereading essays by Montaigne. I love recommendations if you have them.
I live in New Jersey with my partner, our daughter, and an old dog who isn’t an honor roll student, but she is sweet and very beautiful—a good girl through and through.