For as excited as I was to be back in Europe I knew I’d miss my daily routine back home. Especially the drive to the park in the early mornings down the long, straight road. It’s curled like a tongue,… Read More ›
Creative Nonfiction
New moon
It’s the first day of fall. The new moon rose this morning but being the new moon, no one noticed. Sitting with The Cure’s 1989 album Disintegration, it feels like the end. The end of an important decade for the… Read More ›
Homestead style
The morning sun was an angry red dot, a burning ball of flame coming through the trees. The sun made the leaves golden pink; it lit everything with a glorious soft tint. All the trees were leaning or bent and… Read More ›
No dry nights in fest season
Right about now the shit would be hitting the fan in my mom’s small village in southern Germany. The Winzerfest wine festival, which only happens once every two years, was in full swing. And by the looks of it the… Read More ›
On Fifth Street
That first apartment in Allentown was the best. Early twentieth century, high ceilings, good woodwork. I lived on the middle of three floors below the owners, an elderly couple who ran a jewelry repair shop downstairs. An old Czech named… Read More ›
Waning crescent
There’s no point in hurrying to get up now. The thought of an all-cold shower is impossible. But sitting by the picture window in the den at 0500h. the moonlight is splendid, sickle shaped and perched between an isosceles triangle… Read More ›
You know better
It took about two weeks and 12 blog posts before I started feeling good again. I got back to the park and they still had signs up about cougars, probably would ad infinitum. I realized the bear spray made a… Read More ›
Waning gibbous
At the park the grass is bleached out and bald, the color of sand, under the big pines. Several came down in last autumn’s bomb cyclone and they had the park entrance taped off with warning signs but of course… Read More ›
Giant steps are what you take (for DFW)
Both girls overdo it with the perfume; they lack subtlety. The landing just outside our bedroom is now a miasma of sweet, with Charlotte’s BF Rosie living here. When Dawn’s gone I stretch out like a starfish in bed but… Read More ›
August Moon
Walked to the lake in the dark for the first time in a while, sick of being cooped up. Forgot how it looks when there’s fog in the street lamps, a cone of milky light with bugs flapping about. Frogs… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 