Then one day it just ends. The inexplicable way things begin and end. Like some pain in a joint or a job or the last of that awful, single-ply toilet paper roll you bought thinking it was the normal kind…. Read More ›
Poetry
Beware of Maya
Drab autumn days. Leaves the color of old copper coins. Days meant for sofas and blankets and gloomy tunes. In short, my favorite kind of days. Days of tea and cloudy afternoons and poetry. Days of naps and not brushing… Read More ›
Rorschach
Up again before the timed lights came on. And then they were on. The cold that has you coiled in on yourself yearning for warmth. First thoughts of the day, mirror image of the last: how the coffee tumbler was… Read More ›
One chance
A bit of a brute, he was often found in the kitchen with his shirt off cooking, peeing in the garden beds or brooding by himself in the early morning dark. Sometimes he smelled. He was a hard man, but… Read More ›
Song for the dawn
I loved the look of the dawn in the mountains when camping, a long band of pale light along the horizon pushing up against the dark and gloom. It was uplifting to see how the light could dispel the dark… Read More ›
The sun is the same in a relative way
Not needing to go to school on a Thursday in late November was nice. I remember standing outside the car in the early afternoon noting the sky, the dull lead color but the light no less, heading to my grandparents… Read More ›
Urban hieroglyphics
When the macadam broke on the road it took on the texture of a lizard or elephant’s skin, deep ridges spidering out in broken patterns. It was light enough to see on my walk by the horse farms though still… Read More ›
Relapse dream replay
In that dream where I was drinking I could smell it, juicy red wine, and the smell was so real it’s like a part of me was actually drinking again and another part was thinking stop! but my whole face… Read More ›
The day the Ozzy died
After waking up the next favorite part of my day was going to bed. I curled my back in a yoga twist and lay facing the glow of the bistro lamps on the chicken coop. I woke and slept hard:… Read More ›
User’s sanctum
The silhouettes of the horses in the pre-dawn dark look two dimensional. They move at the same pace as me along the lodge pole fencing at the horse farms. Some distant frogs croaking and the din of morning traffic; it’s… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 