Poetry

Introduction To Fashion As Relic
I wrote these because the world kept ending and we kept getting dressed.  
This triptych is my atelier, it’s built from wreckage, old jackets, shattered cities, the way a seam holds when everything else gives way. I wanted to talk about fashion and art not as escape, but as excavation, as armor, as the thing you make when destruction is the only material left.  
These three poems move from finding, to showing, to building, from a single coat in a ruin, to a runway on broken glass, to a workshop lit by grief and floodlight. 
Something ended, but it’s also a manual for reconstruction, for taking the blade to the hem and finding the pattern beneath, for ripping one seam on purpose so hope has somewhere to enter.  

was destroyed 
Now watch me dress the dawn.





Ruined Paradise 
Poetry 

The paradise we once imagined was never whole, its gardens were seeded with fractures, its skies already bruised. What we inherit is not Eden but its echo, a place of beauty scarred, of abundance hollowed, of promises undone. Here, in the ruins, we write, we gather fragments of light and shadow, stitching them into verse. Each poem is a shard of the broken world, a witness to what was lost and what still lingers. Welcome to Ruined Paradise, where poetry begins at the edge of collapse, and beauty survives in the wreckage.