Day ? of the pandemic. The storms roll in, tornado warnings and flooding, devastation for so many in the south, although you’d think plagues would be enough, and everyone pitches in to help, even so. And when the storms rolled out, the sun returned, the grass was crystal-speckled and the air smelled of grass and…

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All right, I’ll just come right out and say it — I’ve become one of those annoying people who, if encouraged in even the smallest way, spend a good part of any conversation talking about my dog.  If you read my recent post, “The Liberating Poetics of Low Expectations,” this probably comes as no surprise. …

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