Books
I write books the way some people keep journals, or cast spells. Each one begins with a question: What's worth answering, what haunts, what refuses to be googled. These books live between the inbox and the search bar, between the bruises of migration and the blush of desire. They're field guides and love letters, gospel and glitch. Read them like instructions, or misread them entirely.
A poetry collection that began as replies to scam texts and evolved into a meditation on identity, intrusion, and poetic resistance. Written during the pandemic, the work reimagines violation as invitation by scavenging from capitalist language - scam emails, fake job offers, and seductive text messages. Each piece represents an act of reclamation, transforming manipulation into lyric and interruption into ritual.
The collection explores what happens when language arrives not to connect, but to extract. Spam becomes spell, with the poet functioning as responder, echo, and ghost. Invasions operates both as theme and method, investigating what it means to be porous in a world constantly attempting to sell, use, or remake you.
A computational poetry work exploring queer identity, plant and animal metaphors, and migratory desire. Published through Kickstarter and printed on soft, beige paper in San Francisco's Tenderloin without an author name on the cover - an intentional choice emphasizing shared authorship. The poems address sexuality, spirituality, and tenderness with equal intensity.
The jaguar serves as the central metaphor - fast, elusive, fugitive - with each poem pursuing its shadow. Beyond the printed book, the project expanded into virtual form. Using Quill, a looping VR illustration of a flying jaguar was positioned as a counter-memory and spirit-guide above the physical text, merging book and digital embodiment into a layered portal experience.
A poetry collection exploring sluthood, queer migration, and spiritual exhaustion - "a manual for surviving the postmodern collapse of sincerity." The text oscillates between theological tone and street vernacular, treating poetry as flesh, as "the hand on your back when no other hand is there." It refuses disembodied irony, insisting on tenderness as resistance.
The work pairs text with hand-drawn illustrations and collage, merging confession with critique. Exposure becomes "fermentation" rather than failure. Scandal is positioned not as ruin but as evidence of continued aliveness, with love remaining "the last raft we share when language and logic have failed."
Poetic responses to questions sourced from the internet. Rather than providing answers, the poems transform inquiries - from common career questions to existential queries - into explorations that "unask the question." The approach treats found language not as lesser but as holy, drawing from Glenn Ligon's stencils and Jenny Holzer's aphorisms.
A poetic search engine and a refusal of self-help's forced optimism. Rather than productivity-focused answers, the poems pose alternative inquiries about family, self-acceptance, and loneliness. Pocket-sized and lo-fi, with collage-textured aesthetics - an ode to introspection and a poetic mutiny against clarity.