“Analog Girl” steps outside the childhood lens of Analog Patience and into the present, exploring what it means to navigate a world where everything is instant, connected, and endlessly available. Through her resistance, frustration, and eventual return to something more internal, this piece reflects on the quiet value of imagination in an age that rarely asks us to wait.
Sometimes the most vivid images aren’t on a screen at all.
A dream, a hallway, and a simple sign made decades ago converge into something far greater than memory. In this deeply personal reflection, a son revisits the morning of his mother’s passing and discovers that love doesn’t end, it transforms. Mom isn’t gone, and she’s not in heaven, at least not one heaven. Her immortality lives in moments of lucidity, in flashes of presence that break through the ordinary. She moves beyond the confines of a single place, becoming something wider, something constant. Through shifting light, blurred voices, and a quiet realization, “World’s Greatest Mom” becomes less a childhood declaration and more an enduring truth. She is everywhere. She is everything. And in that, she is more alive now than ever.
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.
A reflective spoken-word essay on childhood wonder, nostalgia, and the quiet work of reclaiming imagination as adults during the holiday season.
As the penny is finally decommissioned, its small copper life lingers on—in luck, childhood, and memory.
Mannino Acid