Older Poetry
(1999-2019)

A poem of restless travel and aftermath, drifting between stations and memory, where the blues of movement replace sorrow with motion. Haunted by regret, brief flashes of transcendence, and the numbing happiness of nowhere towns, the speaker searches for meaning—or at least an endpoint—on a train that never quite arrives.

A train ride through collapse and class, this poem catalogs a landscape of abandoned trucks, broken windows, and the architecture of profit and neglect. Moving from ruined neighborhoods to suburban sprawl, it maps the division of hope and opportunity—each window a portal on comfort, exclusion, and the slow repetition of modern estrangement.

Tracing a solitary hike from swamp to summit, this poem lingers in each pause, detour, and brush with the unexpected. A meditation on passage, encounter, and the quiet tension between the human-made and the wild, it finds meaning in movement, surprise in the ordinary, and arrival where least expected.

A distilled meditation on generational liminality, this poem conjures the static between analog and digital, memory and forgetting. Born before the internet’s arrival and remade by its noise, the speaker marks the hinge point where soundtracks were tangible and forgetting was still possible—a brief elegy for those who remember both worlds.