Ivy Genovese

These haikus move between parking lots, paper scraps, late-night revelations, ego trips, and everyday survival. With humor, swagger, and unexpected tenderness, the collection turns ordinary moments into strange little myths. Part street poetry, part self-portrait, these verses don't ask permission to exist. They speak in crooked wisdom, awkward honesty, and flashes of absurd confidence - where iguanas become believers, pens spit dynamite, and even selling apple pies feels legendary.
For readers who like their poetry raw, human, and slightly unhinged.