Nick Viau
Writer | Poet | Observer
I write about ordinary things. The kind most people pass by until they quietly reveal something extraordinary.
My work begins in small, scrambled spaces: fountain pen, paper, and the scattered thoughts of my life. From there, I scrape away the shavings until I find something deliberate—poems and stories that capture a feeling long enough for it to spread.
Writing is my way of paying attention. Of understanding what I might have overlooked while navigating the noises of my life.
This site is where I share that work. Poems and stories shaped from the quiet details most of us learn to ignore.
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Her Signature
Her Signature Silken strands like steel converge–winding, weaving, zigging, zagging. Spinnerets stitching the air,sealing the world. Beyond the rippling curtain,another awakes. At the center,the Yellow Queen shudders. Eight spindles twitch,sporting shiny black stilettos. Eight-beaded eyes flash,demanding fealty. Her bustled abdomen poised,Guarding the seam.
big city
Earlier this year, I visited New York for a marketing conference. It was my first time. I penned am early draft of this poem on a pocket notebook before boarding the return flight. One day in New York City made me feel microscopic. At first anyway. I was overwhelmed. Once I got my pedestrian legs…
Scraps
I spent countless Saturdays in the back room of “Viau’s”, our little clothing store. My imagination ran amuck under the influence of comic books and chocolate cake donuts from the bakery next door. The wicker basket livedbeneaththe orange counter with the ironing boardnear the sewing machinesof our clothing store. It ate the scraps of shrinking…