The cats spend the day outside killing, then come in for their canned food. I stood in the garden watering, having the sense something was wrong, and noticed a small rabbit on its side with a gash in its neck…. Read More ›
death
A Near-Life Experience
I drank too much and stopped in 2001, but started again about nine months later. I told my doctor I stopped drinking and when he asked if I was alright I started crying and so he gave me the number… Read More ›
Trying on masks (2)
This is the second in a series of posts where you can’t trust the narrator and the narrator’s not me, inspired by a T.C. Boyle short story. The night fell and so did the frogs and the crows, they all… Read More ›
Open your heart to a map of the badlands
Peel drew a map on a cocktail napkin: a laundromat between Avenue A and Avenue B on the lower east side, New York. He said they sell it right there on the street, through a gate. I took a bus… Read More ›
Myths of the living
I keep a journal in a pocket notepad, but the journal is different from what I write here. The notepads cover about three months at a time before I get a new one, and then I save them in a… Read More ›
As I lay dying, lying about death
All the people who work at the bar seem to have part of their brains missing. They’re confused about what’s on tap and always have to check with someone else; I wonder if they’re hungover or just stupid. And that’s… Read More ›
When night falls like this: life, in black and white
The streets are gray and everything on the edges has gone to brown, might be dead, hangs on waiting, like us. Looks dead, probably isn’t. I stare out the window at work and night has started at 4 o’clock. It… Read More ›
Love binds you in sleep
I saw your face through the frame of a dream I put it together from memory, like a snowman: The eyes, nose, smile I said I love you and looked back for a reaction, To see if it was real… Read More ›
Shadow imprint of a soul: what’s timeless
Souls make snow-angels in the dog bed, where Ginger curls up by the fire. And after she’s gone, the mind still sees after-images of her there and has to check itself, for time: For what time we’re in, now? How it… Read More ›
The thing about the dead is they’re not
Today I’m rebroadcasting a post from when we lived in Germany four years ago, on the theme of death and my step-dad’s passing, five years ago today. Enjoy the holiday, and may the spirits be with you. Famous Last Words
Bill Pearse 