Duck pond, Tallahassee, FL. May 2022.
Sometimes, poetry is not good,
rejuvenating long-dead memories
when one graded The Poetry Assignment
as written by thirteen-year-olds.

Sometimes, the poet shoots
invisible needles of meaning,
millions of them, ripping, zipping
through me, nailing me
to where I sit.

[once again grabbed by the poetry of James G. Piatt as featured on Ephemeral Elegies]

Happy new year

Today is today.

Tomorrow is tomorrow.

Every day is happy new year!

Assess today, try harder tomorrow. Make your resolutions every day… every minute. Resolutions annually have little impact six months from now. Every moment is now, every day is today, every future is “the new year”. It’s great to usher out an arbitrary measurement of time, but really folks: let’s focus on where we really are!


Ibis or egret on a nest. Gatorland, Orlando, Florida. March 2010.

I have been ‘gestating’ a piece more than two months in the making. A friend of mine quoted an author to a small group of us in email, which prompted my reaction, “why do we like what we like?” a question which has tormented me for nearly 20 years. This writing has begun, and I am reasonably certain Part One will appear prior to the end of the year. Like the mother above in the photo, when the egg hatches is not a certain, well-timed thing.