Art & Poetry

Poems, photographs, and visual work from the same brain that likes maps, systems, repair manuals, and the exact shade of light before evening fully commits.

Why this page exists

I do not think creative work lives in a separate room from technical work. It comes from the same habits: attention, structure, revision, and the need to make something legible.

Studio Note

I use poems, images, and design experiments to work on the same questions that show up elsewhere on this site. What deserves attention. What can be said plainly. What refuses to stay plain.

Poetry

Words are slower than data and less obedient. That is part of the appeal.

Random line

Press the button and let the page choose a line worth keeping.

A Bad Design poem / objects / engineering with feelings

Tap the heart on a line you want to keep.

My heels leak,

With each step, grating, chafing,

Could this be by design?

We've only been together a few days,

Perhaps it is my fault,

Not taking the time to offer support,

Before slamming, stomping into you.

Who would design such a thing?

No one else would want you in this state,

To suggest so feels like a setup, a hoax.

Perhaps a hairdryer and a rigid form,

Maybe some duct tape,

A pair of pliers, some wire cutters,

To surgically remove the parts of you that rub me the wrong way.

To no avail, and now my foolish faith in you has brought me far from home.

Far, and I think I might be bleeding-

I will carry you the rest of the way.

Soon the limp of uneven stilts,

Will send a pang through my hips, a warning.

Socks on searing sidewalks,

Catching on stale gum,

Collecting stories laid by treads,

Left by soles not soaked in scarlet,

The better of your ilk.

For you, I've sacrificed my heels,

My toes harbor liquid cushions,

Feet gone flat,

My balls slowly scorched.

But I still feel for you;

Betrayer.

I know, if it were up to you, you would not have picked this.

You remind me of me.

Brandishing your name as bait,

Luring investments in naive idolatry.

Aspiring beyond clearance rack compromises,

Seduced by a gilded construction,

I championed your promise.

To discard you now

Would be to admit defeat,

To waste not only money,

But value of conviction.

So you'll live in my closet,

Next to the others,

Until I come up with a way to fix you-

Trading band aids for false hope once again-

Or I find the heart to throw you out.

Marginalia

This started with a pair of shoes. I don't have them anymore.

The Ocean Listened poem / coast / indifference as comfort

The quiet lines can keep their teeth too.

I cried to the ocean today

She listened deeper than I spoke,

and she told me she did not care.

So I asked the birds,

but they were too busy

idling against the ocean breeze

I asked the grasses,

they stopped to listen

and went back to sharing quiet whispers with the trees.

Then I asked the wind,

and she swept up my tears faster than they could fall.

I have never felt more loved.

Marginalia

I like that this one refuses to make comfort sentimental. The love arrives through reverence, not reassurance.

Visual Work

I am building this section more selectively than I used to.

Photography and visual work are coming next!

Leave a Note

Comments on this page run through GitHub. If you want to leave a note on the work, that is the room.