Any real Italian would add that leftover liquid from the jarred anchovies to the pasta sauce I thought, though the smell was pungent and the contents unknown. Probably olive oil and whatever salty oils had sloughed off the fish. So… Read More ›
Memoir
Salthill Promenade, 2015
At times the rain could be maddening, the repetition. And it got so dark you had to watch your mood or you could slip under. I thought back to our time in Salthill, outside of Galway, when our family came… Read More ›
Sunday sermon
No color left to speak of in the woods. It’s ash gray, bone colored, drab greens and browns. The feel of cold wind rushing through a bare forest. Keeping an eye on the creaking trees (they sound like zippers). How… Read More ›
Tending and mending
You couldn’t see the moon because of the clouds but with it almost full it made the night sky milky white. More wind had raked down branches throughout the yard, pine needles too. My new haz mat suit was waiting… Read More ›
It’s a shame about Ray
Foggy morning walks through Soaring Eagle state park. By December the color has drained down to a dull copper with some last yellow in the leaves. The rest of the landscape is green, cloaked in gray. The deep greens of… Read More ›
Last Sunday in November
So long 54. With Thanksgiving late in the month this year it runs headlong into Christmas and no one’s missing a beat. My birthday fell the Sunday after turkey day and we went back to our favorite neighborhood restaurant, Jak’s…. Read More ›
For Frank
Great big scoops of sleep. Sleep like slipping down a sliding board. Pillowy clouds of sleep to sail away upon. Sleep like disappearing. Woke remembering my uncle Frank, brother to my grandmother, forever single. Why do they always pick on… Read More ›
Field recordings, Portland
I went back to Portland to see my childhood friend Loren for the night. Arrived early and left 24 hours later. We took our familiar walks and ended things where we started, at his local coffee shop, Keeper. In the… Read More ›
Salad days
I remember leaving that apartment on Spring Street. It was the first place I lived alone after breaking up with my girlfriend. Spring is one over from Union on the edge of Seattle’s Capitol Hill, inside the Central District. Not… Read More ›
Sad Classical
For as much as I liked walking in the dark it was much better in the pre-dawn, more color in the sky. Nobody out on a Saturday but me and the rabbits. More reason for the owls hooting I guess…. Read More ›
Bill Pearse 