New Poetry Collection Published!

I couldn’t be more excited to announce that this weekend, I accomplished one of my lifelong dreams of self-publishing a book of my poetry! Through many iterations and rounds of design with my editors, manuscript, and cover design artists – and through the amazing feedback and suggestions from friends and family – I am now live on Amazon for purchase!

Poetry is something that’s always had a special place in my heart, and I’m thrilled to put into the world my contribution to what is absolutely one of my favorite art forms.

If you feel so inclined, here’s the link for some good bedside reading ☺️:


I remember the days of innocence

promises left between the cracks in the sidewalks

dandelion blowing in the wind

but they always seemed to stay just long enough, floating sparkles in the sky

we’d lift our heads towards the ocean

sea breeze mix of hope and wonder

lungs filled with oxygen




life life life

i swear it is hiding beneath the staircase, it is tucked under the corner

it is planted beneath this pavement

it is trying to speak

A Million Dreams


I close my eyes and I can see
The world that’s waiting up for me
That I call my own
Through the dark, through the door
Through where no one’s been before
But it feels like home
They can say it all sounds crazy
They can say I’ve lost my mind
I don’t care, so call me crazy

We can live in a world that we design
‘Cause every night I lie in bed
The brightest colors fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake

I think of what the world could be
A vision of the one I see
A million dreams is all it’s gonna take
A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

There’s a house we can build
Every room inside is filled
With things from far away
The special things I compile
Each one there to make you smile
On a rainy day

However big, however small
Let me be part of it all
Share your dreams with me

A million dreams are keeping me awake
A million dreams
I think of what the world could be
A vision of the one I see
A million dreams is all it’s gonna take
A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

Any Excuse

I’ll take any excuse to love you

So explain to me that the sky isn’t blue

That this pain I’m feeling isn’t real

Tell me that people don’t really have two hands Tell me we’ll live forever

even though I know someday we all have to go

I’ll take any excuse to love you

Any excuse to believe that this might somehow work Tell me that when you paused

when I asked if you thought we’d be together always

That you really meant yes

Seattle Grey

It’s Wednesday and it’s gloomy outside. I went for a little run, and it started hailing as soon as I’d run no more than 35 minutes. Only 35 minutes. Seattle can be gloomy for such extended periods of time that it feels like you’re living in some sort of womb. A womb formed out of air and cloud and dew, that gives birth to things like evergreen trees, hot coffee and maybe an occasional snuggle with a dog named Rosie.

Do people in Seattle spend most of their lives in wait? Are they waiting for summer? Are they waiting for the sun to poke through the clouds? Are they waiting for something that might never come?

It is most likely naive to think that Seattlites spend their days waiting for sun – if they did, they’d spend all of their time in wait. How much of our lives do we spend in wait? Perhaps Seattle teaches you to enjoy where you are, no matter what the weather. Perhaps Seattle teaches you that even periods of your life considered to be the “in between” – vacations, waiting to become pregnant, waiting to get a job, waiting to find “the one” – even in those periods, life is still happening. There is still joy to be had, there is still quiet comfort to be found in the gloom, and there are cups of coffee that taste way better because it’s raining outside while you’re inside, cat in your lap, at peace.

How much of our lives do we spend waiting? How much of our lives do we spend waiting for the weekend, waiting for a vacation, waiting for the day we’ll finally have enough money to afford to buy a home? How much of our lives do we spend living in anticipation of some version of the future? If we consider so much of our lives a “transitional” phase, how much of our lives do we really spend enjoying being alive? Do we enjoy waiting?

I can certainly tell that Rosie doesn’t enjoy waiting when Stef leaves for work in the morning. I can see the worry in her delicate features, her brow furrowed, her lashes held perfectly still – her nose on high alert and the all-too-familiar feeling of disappointment when Stef closes the door and leaves for work. She rushes to the side room, looking out the window, and then slowly she resigns herself, giving up. Another day to lie in wait. She stations herself by the door, her pale cream body pressed air-tight against the floor, as if nothing else matters other than the moment Stef finally walks back through that door. It seems that Rosie waits too – her life on pause, her happiness on pause while she waits through a period of “insignificance” until her beloved comes home.

What if we were able to feel significance – to feel joy and to feel gratitude for the smaller things and the everyday moments in those periods of wait between significant events? Lows allow for highs and darkness sets the stage for brightness, but what if we were able to appreciate both? The valleys, the dips, the peaks and everything in between – the journey? It isn’t only the summit that brings joy on a hike. Once all is done, it is also the enjoyment of exercise; the breaths taken in between – the steps, the rivers and the plants on the side of the trail, if only one was to take note of them.

Instead of labeling periods of our lives as “insignificant,” what if we honored the beauty that is every moment of our lives? Instead of instinctively forging ahead, ignoring the foliage, what if we slowed down to notice the beauty of these moments between moments? Perhaps we’d notice that these too, are special.

And aren’t moments and the contrasts between them what make life feel longer? When we wait for the weekend, the week disappears and our weekends string together to create a life that feels short. When we place such meaning and emphasis on weekends, lackluster weekends ruin our days. When we notice everything and every day in between, we give each day a chance to be beautiful. We give equal weight to our experiences, and we allow ourselves joy in moments where we would never have found it.

Perhaps noticing the quiet comfort of the rain pattering on the windowsill – the temperature that makes it a perfect night to make tomato soup with a crusty piece of bread from the local bakery – perhaps that is the way to truly enjoy our lives – to savor every last drop, every last delectable minute.

And when the sun peeks through yet again, as it always does, we’ll smile, knowing how much immeasurable joy we have to live for.

Wrap Me

wrap my heart in embers

encase my chest in cloth wrap it stop it from breaking

or at least hold its shattered pieces together

wrap it in steel so I can’t feel the quaking

the chasms

roaring rivers running through canyons

filled with lions

cool it with breezes, funnel in light

hold me so hard that it stops hurting

hold me hard and plant flowers in my emptiness

I want to watch them bloom in the springtime


remind me that everything dies but that there is new life


I want to devour those pages

those words, intoxicating fantasy

the pit in my stomach,

Ravage you, cover to cover

I want to feel your cobblestones against the soles of my feet and revel in the sunshine playing off of your shoulders

The window gaze reflecting sharply searing into my consciousness

Take me down a little dirt road to faraway England where the sun shines down on the fields of peat

Take me through forests

Replete with dew

The smell of cinder in the trees

Take me through twists and turns to that old bar

Brett Ashley smoking in the corner

lazy gaze of wine, drunk, and afternoon glistening in her eyes

Take me running through glittering cities


the grates hitting our heels endless causeways

and then lead me back to that forgotten orange

Sitting in the fruit bowl placed up high

Long gone summers, kisses, laughter

Take me through those corners and tell me why you always keep the light on in that empty room just in case

I want to feel those corners like they’re mine

Memorize the pages, run them across my tongue like aged honey

Filling my chest like love found,

Like love lost.

Take me back to the time we were sitting in that old Chevrolet and the dust was catching the sun just right across the windshield, lazy day in 1979

You put your sunglasses on and kissed me and everything felt like cigarette smoke and sunshine.