Now gone a long time, you could vanish forever Both of you my patriarchs, gone the same year: Dick and John, father-in-law, stepdad Dick with your hands shaking holding the drill, helping you repair the front steps— John and your… Read More ›
writing
Songs in the attic
This morning the fog was so thick on the plateau it blurred all the trees but when I got up the road you could see the very edge of it, like where the fog officially began or ended in the… Read More ›
The last night of the fair
Fried pie, gator kabobs, a handwritten sign that says This isn’t fast food it’s fresh food so thanks for being patient. T-shirts like I got SCONED at the fair (with a big scone). A sexualized version of the little mermaid… Read More ›
First night with LSD and the police
How can you just leave me standing alone in a world that’s so cold The night ended like all nights, with the dawn. But this was like no other, that first night in Erie, Pennsylvania. The rugby player Grundy drove… Read More ›
Reconstruction of the fables
I thought I couldn’t slow down any more than I had, but I was wrong. Now taking late morning naps. Not a good look when my wife is working her ass off, too busy to hang her clothes. The house… Read More ›
This is a long drive with nothing to think about
The land driving east across Washington to the desert steppe looks stretched and spotted like the hide of an old reptile. Just flecks of sage brush, land that looks scarred and weathered, like it’s already been burned or is about… Read More ›
Long division
When I woke I really didn’t know where I was. Still divided between two places, two time zones, two bedrooms. But there was the clock on the side of my bed anchoring me to this place: home-home. And after being… Read More ›
Bookending
This is a series of posts written from my mom’s house in Germany that begins here, and ends with this post. I came and went on a Thursday. Took the old walk my last day, the one mom calls her… Read More ›
Leaving the country
At Eberhard’s we sit outside his mom’s place on a rickety bench with our backs against a stone hut, by the walnut tree. He uses a tree stump for a small table with a crude table top balanced on top… Read More ›
Last Sunday in Germany
On Sunday we’d go to Eberhard’s house in the country. It’s actually his mom’s house, and he’s been living there for years since she had a stroke and can’t live by herself. He’s also got a house across the road… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 