An accidental poem by Andy.

the loneliness
of young adulthood
when you’re

in between families

the one that
birthed you and the
one you’ll
start for yourself

Shiny forest, solo hike, outside of Seattle
Shiny forest, solo hike, outside of Seattle


Living in my rented city house
my set of four city rooms

things i can’t change:
several gaps in the floorboards
mysterious with dust
remnants from tenants past

a gravitational yawn that pulls the
heavy bathroom door to crash against
the kitchen wall

and a hallway so matted with stale air
that even my modern day cleaning artillery
has barely made a dent

Roaree breathes softly next to me
paws and nose tucked into the
folds of a blanket
i mistake his tiny dream sounds

as mice squeaks
now and then


Galway Bay

it took four days of
droplets covering my red beret
like the seeds of a strawberry

i positioned myself at
a window in one cafe
porcelain mug of coffee
and 2 books, stacked up

suddenly, finding
myself outside & my coffee
abandoned —

light on shining cobblestones
fast moving sky

stay put for a moment

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