The most perfect night. Perfect is a superlative, so it can’t be topped. There’s no “more perfect,” or most perfect, it’s fine on its own, it’s perfect. The first really warm day when everything takes on a different feel. The… Read More ›
prose
“Insignificance”
A new page on the calendar with its tongue hanging out to either tease or taunt us: our insignificance, a new getting through.
Major character syndrome
On Sundays I take more time at the lake and get there early enough I have it all to myself. There’s a rock on the shore where I sit and a Corona beer bottle cap a few feet below the… Read More ›
It doesn’t go out like a lamb
They said everyone needs to work from home and the vibe on my floor was a kind of evacuation mode in slow-mo.
Sunday roadside stands
The rain fell so hard I stood in the doorway watching it, letting in the cool, clean air.
Spirit is time-reversed to your body
I remembered the smoked turkey we had in the meat locker from Easter and started fantasizing about eating a leg, just standing in the kitchen and taking it by hand.
A question of degrees
Upstairs someone was either crying or laughing.
“Transmission”
The butcher’s knife slipped off the edge of an onion and into my fingertip and somehow just the idea of my blood on the cutting board seemed to freak everyone out, for fear I was infected.
The loop
Walking to the lake with Lily and how she seems to grow older with every step, as if it’s happening on this very walk, these new features in her face…and how time bends.
“No one really about”
How the bell around the cat’s neck grates as she rubs her neck against the concrete. And we stopped caring so much about the cleanliness in our house. Which is counterintuitive because we were all home now all of the… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 