Pothole Dreams

in ,

Pothole dreams got me
Fishin’ down a stream.
Long days in the sun
Is where I belong.
I crave salty air
And how it tangles in my hair.
Sick of this flat earth
And train rides under cold dirt.
This is not where I belong,
This is not where I belong!
Where sewers seep
And you can’t get to sleep,
Because sirens won’t stop -
This Big Apple surely rots.
Get me out of here
Before I lose all that’s sincere.
Get me back in the sun
Where we all get along
And the pace is slow
And there’s no need for go, go, go.
I’ve got nothing to prove
Except my love for you
And I’m finding it hard to do
When I’m drowning in a noose.
My soul wants to break free,
Oh baby won’t you come with me?

Land Bridge in Bar Harbor, Maine at Sunset

I Belong to The Sun

in ,

I belong to the sun

And rustling leaves,

To the birds and their tunes

To the sweet gentle breeze.

I belong on dirt roads,

Barefoot and dusty,

To the creeks and mountains

Where nature surrounds me.

I belong in small towns

Where there’s not much to do,

Except go on long hikes

And crack a cold one with you.

I belong on the beach

With my feet in the sand,

Listening to Zach Bryan

While you hold my hand.

Monotone Malaise

Photography is not limited to a mere act of documentation, it is a tool to visualize the ephemeral feeling of an inner space, using the outer world as both muse and canvas. We see the world through our unique lens of perception, and photography parallels this subtle and often unrecognized aspect of how we interact with, and create, our reality.

Monotone Malaise, Long Island City, 2026

The World Will Try to Take Away..

The world will try to take away your curiosity, your passion, your innocence, and you must push back against this force, you must rebel with the relentlessness of your spirit, else you will become annihilated, turned into a carcass stitched together by the thoughts and habits of already hollowed men.

in ,

How to reconcile the banality of my external — no — I will not be caught in the deception of duality, it is all my life. There is time for what I enjoy to do and time for what I must do.

Stillness in an unstill place

in , 
Stillness in an unstill place
But my chest still aches
What have I become
What will I be
I feel like a spec
Though I span galaxies

As Slumber Sets

in ,

Shenandoah National Park, Winter, 2025

And the mountains uprooted themselves

Upon sight of weightless vapors above

For even they became tired of the toil

A strand of streetlights appeared

Delicately draped along the neck

Of death’s formless mistress

Frozen tears from heaven

Blanket the blacktop

As slumber sets