33 and a Third

A snow day, a basement, and a turntable spinning time itself. Before everything was instant, there was a rhythm to waiting. Records played start to finish, stories unfolded one track at a time, and imagination filled the space in between. This piece explores the quiet ritual of vinyl, where a boy begins to choose his own signal, shaping not just what he hears, but who he becomes.

Channel 3

A quiet Saturday morning in the early 1980s. Three channels, a Zenith television, and the ritual of cartoons and commercials that defined a generation. In this moment, the boy isn’t just watching the show. He’s watching himself on Channel 3, frozen in black and white on the screen. A fleeting broadcast becomes a memory that outlasts the signal, a reminder of when the world arrived through antennas and imagination did the rest.

Calling All Stations

A boy in a cellar, a man at the dial, and a signal that never quite resolves. This poem explores radio as a bridge across distance and time, shrinking the world while chasing away the loneliness of childhood and the deeper isolation of adulthood.

Murmurations

A morning off its axis. A walk before light. In the rising sky, starlings gather and shift, shaping air into something almost legible. What begins unmoored finds its measure again — not by force, but by pattern.

The Lords of Stanford Drive

In a quiet valley upstate, three boys ruled a kingdom no one else could see. Big Wheels and vacant lots. Crayfish and cardboard swords. Drive-ins and rotary phones. The Lords of Stanford Drive is a suburban epic about friendship, freedom, and the strange elasticity of childhood time — how it once stood still, then slowly crept, then suddenly caught up. A myth of a street. A memory of an era. A crown worn lightly, and laid down without ceremony.

The Asymptotic Life

Time is not the tyrant we think it is. In dreams it bends. In trauma it fractures. And at the edge of life, it may stretch toward something that feels infinite. The Asymptotic Life explores the elastic nature of perception and the possibility that eternity isn’t a destination, but a limit we are always approaching.

Outside the Raging Fire

A meditation on distance, desire, and endurance. Outside the Raging Fire traces the human condition through elemental forces, memory, and restraint. This poem explores what it means to observe rather than burn, to persist without surrender, and to stand just beyond the heat where clarity, loss, and meaning quietly coexist

They’re Derogative

A satirical lyrical inversion of My Prerogative, reframing autonomy without accountability as performance, denial, and spectacle. When power insists on being left alone, language bends to justify it. This is that bend, set to a familiar rhythm.

An Unmeasured Life

What if aging is not merely biological, but perceptual.
What if time tightens its grip only once we begin to count it.

An Unmeasured Life explores the uneasy intersection of quantum observation, human awareness, and mortality. It considers whether our fear lies not in death itself, but in the act of witnessing our own erosion in increments. A meditation on measurement, inevitability, and the quiet cost of knowing too much, too soon.

Call of the Void

Call of the Void is an acknowledgment of a strange, universal moment: standing at the edge of immensity and feeling the mind briefly test the boundary between presence and absence. Not despair, not desire—but awareness. The vastness doesn’t persuade; it humbles. This piece explores l’appel du vide as a rational, fleeting confrontation with scale, insignificance, and freedom—listening to the void without obeying it.