rippletoe : the birth of infinary
The name rippletoe originates from the book, rippletoe : the birth of infinary. This long-awaited journey spanned 15 years of sporadic writing and illustration. Over the years, the art, poetry, and prose existed in digital form, quietly waiting for the author to breathe life into the book. Now, it emerges from its slumber to awaken the tenors of our lives—the trials, tribulations, ups and downs, and the detours that connect our souls.
The interplay between the writing and the art offers a visceral experience for the reader. On the surface, the story appears to be a fable about a boy’s life. However, it is a multilayered journey of the mind, slowly revealing philosophical musings to the reader. The narrative breaks from conventional linear plots, mirroring life’s fragmented journey while observing the beauty in its simplicity.
Available September 27, 2025
The book begins its quiet arrival with a limited run of 100 hardcover editions, each one signed and accompanied by a previously unseen image print. In October, the softcover edition will be available at Desert Island in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, with more to follow.
rippletoe excerpt
From a lone window of the hovel,
framework broken at the corner,
a quiet boy waves to a forsaken man
fading into the waking day.
The boy’s tentative waves linger—
synonymous with his name, Ripple—
long after one last glance
from the elusive figure.
A figurative father,
infrequent in his life—
a shadow that never matches
a paternal silhouette.
A shadow in grief—
undone by irreparable absence.
Now the room is lonely,
but the child’s thoughts
brim with aerial acrobats.
He is fond of paper airplanes,
knows only one design—
unwitting in repetition.
These elemental objects are treasured—
for the word toy is foreign to him.
The breeze from the open window
sweeps papers in an orchestral scatter,
inviting the soft-spoken boy
to imagine his creations.
He approaches loose pages,
brushing aside tattered clothes
sagging on a line,
weighed by emptiness
of an acquaintance.
Yet sunbeams warm him,
and his worn white t-shirt reflects brightly—
almost angelic—
while untold parchments,
imbued with serenity,
fluctuate in iridescence.
