Stories of early morning bass busting water in an inlet here or there just out of reach

I came up with a small slip of folded yellow paper that had “Nyquist” printed on it

A narrative of memory threaded with story

My feeling about summer is ambivalent

That I am no longer a reporter means that I am free to imagine stories about what and who I see

A confessional dialogue

Igor’s a guy who’s looking ahead; he doesn’t dwell on the bad stuff

The purse, shoved between a seat in the third row and an armrest, had apparently been hiding there all along, virtually invisible

Birds’ seemingly infinite adaptations are, for me, where the main interest is found.

We all need an edge, especially as we approach it