I wrote this poem when I was sad about many of the changes happening in my life. I have always had a connection to my neighbors' backyard, because I used to go down there to help them water the plants and pull weeds. Recently, the thought occurred to me that one day, the jasmine vines that have been there since I was a child will be torn down and forgotten, and this idea led me to a general reflection on the brevity of childhood joy. This poem is a celebration of all that joy and is a fun, creative piece set in my childhood home.

This non-fiction hybrid piece is about a formative place from my childhood: Stanford Sierra Camp. I’ve been going there ever since I was little, and I’m so grateful for all of the memories I’ve made there. In this piece, I collected some of my favorite memories and wrote them as fragments—it emphasizes how fast time flies without us even realizing. I wanted to add a lot of imagery throughout this piece. My main goals for this piece was to invite the reader into the scene and to have the reader be a part of the thrilling adventure that Sierra Camp has given me.

This poem shares my experience riding the Caltrain and witnessing someone's suicide attempt mindfulness and intentionality. "City Lights" is a poem of both mourning and celebration of life. We've lost so many to mental illness, and my goal is not to glorify that experience, but to shed light, not to convince or persuade, on the beauty of life. We have so many poems left to write. This is my love letter to my community of fellow humans navigating this harrowing and spectacular beauty we call living.

This piece is a 498 piece of fiction, either classified as a short story or a flash fiction, describing a wintry scene where a vengeful boy crouches in a hut, where he is alone next to a fire, setting old family photos ablaze with no remorse. The question is: why? It took a lot of descriptive language to wrap up this piece, and while it was short, it was definitely an interesting creative process to go through while making it.

TW: Self-harm, War, Death. This intimate collection of love letters to my three beloveds—my ancestry, my friends, my family. I explore how grief, frustration, anger, and confusion weave into the determination of love. Love coaxes brutality. But the gentleness of endearment never ceases. A Lesson in Pho tackles my love for the famous Vietnamese dish while coming to terms with its brutal history. I write dearly about my favorite dish while contrasting it with my family’s history with hunger and food. On Thunderstorms is a love letter to my friend and her worldview. During thunderstorms, she goes out in the rain to look for her neighbor's dog for hours just to make sure he had a dry place to wait out the storm. I wanted to capture her worldview and juxtapose it with people’s inability to understand her motives for running into the rain. Her delicacy in handling the old dog contrasts with the thunderstorm. To My Mother reflects my mixed feelings about my mother. Though I love her dearly, I harbor resentment for her. In this poem, I navigate the confusion behind wanting something more from her while recoiling from her touch. It's a stifling emotion with no name yet in this piece, I hoped to name it. Through my collection, Love Letters, I hope to navigate the nuance in not just love, but the complexities that love siphons.

This poem was born out of flame - figuratively but also in a more physical, personal way. I often use my surroundings and experiences to influence my writing. My style of poetry is spur-of-the-moment: words flowing out to try and describe the perfect image I have in my head. This poem transforms an everyday practice such as lighting a match into something more beautiful and inspiring.

A mixture of my imagination and the real invasion of the Polish town Bialystok.

This collection is meant to create a multidimensional experience of the intricacies of morning life on a farm. Through the lens of rural life, my narrative aims to symbolize broader philosophical ideas in society. “Flight” is a contrapuntal poem that explores the relationship between humanity and nature. It invites readers to navigate its landscape on their own, with its flexibility in interpretation. The constantly-shifting role that the ducks and their eggs play symbolizes the delicate balance between creation and consumption. “Farm” explores the rural setting in a broader way, by capturing the quiet symphony of a summer morning on the farm. The narrative is paced slower and more linearly than “Flight,” juxtaposing the unhurried, routine cadence of farm life, with a fast-paced and non-chronological one. In this way, “Farm” is focused on the timeless ebb and flow of a summer morning on the farm. “Cornfield” is a poem written in iambic pentameter that is meant to invoke a sense of tranquility, musicality, while following two farmhands in a budding romance. The use of natural elements grounds the poem in the sensory richness of the environment, creating a celebration of love within the natural world. Through my collection, Ante Meridiem, I aim to portray the nuances in the actions, emotions, and lifestyles that drive life in a rural setting, how these cycles stagnate and change as time passes.

This collection represents three different manifestations of anxiety. Some of us may not be able to cope with it well; others may believe they are coping when they are actually digging themselves into a deeper hole. The first poem, “the gentleman named fear,” describes the experience of intense fear. The eye shape of the poem can be read left to right or as two poems separated by the gap. This poem is inspired by my own experiences of late night anxiety that quickly escalates into night terrors. Often, my anxiety renders me unable to sleep without certain “rituals” like tucking myself securely into the blankets and wearing an eye mask. The second poem, “& so i made myself a cloud machine,” depicts repressing trauma. I loosely based the poem on my tendency to forget about things that make me stressed. However, when I am finally forced to face those things, I often become extremely overwhelmed. The third poem, “how to use a broken sewing machine,” shows the narrator deluding themself into thinking all is right in the world. This is based off of a specific incident when my best friend messaged me about being in a dangerous situation and I was completely unable to help. I was terrified because I couldn’t do anything, so I started telling myself that everything was okay. I knew that if I tried to imagine anything further, even if what I imagined was optimistic, I would spiral and everything would come crashing down.

I spent most of my elementary years in Kentucky. There was a forest in our backyard, and all of the people I met had homes and supportive friends who would help them through tough times. It was happy, and I saw very little suffering on a daily basis. Now, I commute across the length of the east bay and through downtown SF everyday just to get to school, and I saw so many different hardships as my eyes were opened to a cruel new world. Over the past few years, I have become almost indifferent to it through mass exposure. This is an attempt to recognize the suffering and reconcile these two lives; one a distant memory, a fading dream, and the other a cold, harsh reality that is too often ignored. Furthermore, it embodies my struggles with finding motivation to change my plans to help others and the subsequent guilt that comes from abstaining, and my hope that through working together we have the power to improve the world.

A boy writes a letter to his dog Muddy, who is currently battling a mysterious foe called Can Sir.

It’s 6:15 in the morning, 15 minutes before Reveille, 15 minutes before I have to do anything at all. So I just lay in bed, content. This is the blissful moment “Just Before” is attempting to capture - the beauty of beating your alarm.

When I composed this piece, I was listening to a lot of waltzes and Shostakovich. You can hear clear influences from both of those, with the signature waltz rhythm that persists throughout the main theme as well as in some passages with very clear Shostakovich-esque styles.

“Spacetime,” a completely self-written and produced song, explores the feeling of being separated from a loved one and wrestling with both physical and emotional space. The entire song revolves around a central piano arpeggio motif, which I felt perfectly reflected the lyric “I fall head over heels” in both a metaphorical and physical sense—the lack of gravity in space.

Liszt's Transcendental Étude no. 10 is dramatic and challenging, nicknamed "Appassionata". This piece, unlike all of my previous repertoire, took me three years to get my final recording. It challenged me, frustrated me, felt like it hated me and I certainly hated it back.

As I become more familiar with the structure and harmony of the songs I play, I like to create new arrangements and re-harmonize them, sometimes straying pretty far away from the original version.

This is part of s short story I wrote during my Creative Writing in Magical Realism independent study. It is about the feeling of losing a friend to a different path in life and being at crossroads of fate. I had the first sentence in my head for easily over 6 months and the rest of the story followed through from it.

The idea behind this work is tryin to tell a story only through describing objects. Most story’s are told through the characters actions and reactions to the world around them, but I tried to tell a story through the objects around the characters instead. This story is very important to me because they have been with me for a while as I attempted to tell their story, but though sometimes their relationship with each other would be different they would always find each other and it would always end with grief. Their’s has always been a bittersweet story of short lived happiness that I could never get quite right and in this continuous journey for perfection I have grown to know these characters far more than could be illustrated in this short story. It fits them I think, as just as I discovered who they were by guessing and filling in the blanks as their story slowly revealed itself, leaving these gaps in how they story portrays them leaves them open to interpretation by the reader. That’s who they are, they are a mystery even to me, filled in with experience, guesswork, dreams, and pieces of myself. And I hope through only the descriptions of their home you can find a bit of their personality.

a short spill told by an observant boy.

Currently, I have been working on my own book called Butterfly Morgue for a few months now. it's about this group of kids who have just graduated high school and decided not to go to college to pursue their dream of becoming a famous successful band. I've been wanting to write a book for a while but I haven't had the time nor the motivation to but now I have found the passion for it. This story is about music in a way and I love music so much which is why I am so excited to release this tiny part of my book.