An epiphany about writing, regret, and foolish rumination.

A week into Covid, I told my daughter I had brain frog. (That’s not a typo.) “Damn it,” I said. “I mean bran fog.” Sigh.

Or do you enjoy family, kids, grandkids, dogs, cats, and goldfish?

The hoarding sea and the renewing sea

No battle plan survives first contact with the enemy.

Where is he now? Better yet, who is he now?

An aging barber and his penchant for The New York Times helped me solve a publishing challenge

Woke with a new thought of love not withheld a tiny crack in my shell the golden light could warm me