Preface

This collection began between 2024 and the spring of 2025 — a period of quiet withdrawal, largely alone in New York, possibly my last chapter in America — and continues as new poems enter its structure. Communication grew sparse. Something harder to name grew in its place: introspection, narrative reconfiguration, and an emotional intensity that had nowhere else to go.

I did not set out to build a collection. I wrote when language arrived, and I followed it. Over time, three tones emerged — three worlds I had been carrying without knowing their names. They are not geographic divisions, but affective registers: what can be imagined, what can be addressed, and what is governed by social rules.

Still Life is the internal world — my world — colored by intuition, affect, and sometimes hallucination, narrated by a mirror image of the self. Bless You reaches toward the other: a 'you' that is not a singular person but a condensation of attachment — a lover, a parent, a god, a ghost — collapsing the boundaries between confession, belief, and intimacy. Their World enters the symbolic — the mechanical world that defines and disfigures us, terrain of institutions and ambient control, where the subject becomes plural and the line between watcher and watched dissolves.

These are personal mythologies. There is no unified narrative here, only fragments that momentarily align, like glimpses in a foggy window before the forest vanishes.

On this site, each poem is given a layout that responds to its own structure — line count, rhythm, density, repetition — and to a living clock associated with each world. The reading experience is stable in meaning but unstable in form: the same poem can wear different clothes depending on when and where you meet it.

Writing, for me, becomes a way of circling the unreachable present. The poems do not capture reality; they return to it again and again, from different angles, hoping to touch a vanishing future.

You are invited to pass through them. Not to find meaning or any answer, but to lose yourself in the memory.

— Spring 2025; edition note updated 2026