August 27, 2020

The name of Reuben Jackson’s poetry class, “Bold as Love,” intrigued me even though I had never much valued poetry. I had no accolades, no awards, no audience.

August 26, 2020

It was only a few months away from the big “40”. Funny, at the time I thought that I was on the verge of the Armageddon....

August 25, 2020

I am standing outside an amphitheatre in Mansfield, Massachusettes and nothing...

August 24, 2020

That August, the wind carried away the post-rain steam, leaving the morning cooler. But no such luck today. This feeble breeze barely has grace enough to...

August 20, 2020

I was starting my second attempt at graduate school. The first was back in 2007, a Master’s in Classical Acting from a reputable school in London. Strike One.

August 19, 2020

This is the day after you said you wanted to talk, and for a week, chaos reigned every part of my insides. Most things in life give warnings, like the low...

August 12, 2020

Mom sits in a puffy gray hospital chair next to her bed in the Orchard Manor nursing home in Lancaster, Wisconsin. She leans back, as if she doesn’t have...

August 12, 2020

Ten years ago I was obsessed. It was a little odd, and I can’t explain it, but all I wanted to do, and all I did, was make paintings of fried eggs...

August 12, 2020

I’m reading Kate Walbert’s A Short History of Women by flashlight next to my toddler while he falls asleep. He needs to play with my hair to drift off...

August 10, 2020

I stride into the kitchen, a bushel of freshly cut lettuces under my arm...

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