It has certainly been a while. Life has a way of doing that to you.  When I started writing I never imagined I’d still be doing it and trying to get it published at age 74. Yet here I am still at it. This blog has been dormant for quite a while, I know. But it is time to revive it, if only occasionally. And it is time to heed the advice my grandson (now in high school) gave my wife when he was five: “you have to be on multiple platforms.” So I will be migrating over to Substack, but my occasional posts will appear here and there for the time being. You can find me here:

https://substack.com/@theoldpoet

and occasionally on bluesky as well:

https://bsky.app/profile/anoldwriter.bsky.social

And since I am talking about age, a poem from the vault:

Medus’s Hairdo Magazine, Issue 6, 1999

In Memorium, the Nameless One

My muse drowned
in a torrent of words.
I buried her
on page 243
of War and Peace.
Kafka read the eulogy
while Ferlinghetti dozed
in the third pew
I sat Shiva for a week
and the guests brought
endless casseroles of
Westlake, Cornwell and Kellerman.
I waited for Ondaatje
to sooth my grief
but he was lost
in his own desert.
Her ghost visits me
in hotel rooms
when my pen
is always out of reach.