How dim the light in the morning through the last brown leaves And the look of the limbs curled inwards, slumped low How soft the heater blows those long, solemn notes Like the sound of a car scraping down an… Read More ›
writing
The rhythm of trees falling down
Twelve days in a row writing the same marketing copy for a project we started in July that was supposed to end in September. Sitting at my desk in the bedroom while the sun set reading it a final time… Read More ›
“Fall back”
I got as close to the light as I could though it was all gray and not much to speak of, and there in the corner of the window a stink bug fanned the glass with a limp leg, and… Read More ›
‘Wax and wane’
By the time we got to the end of October I was done with it. The Halloween decals on the windows, the witches and skulls…it seemed to go on forever, like it should have been over by now. The skeleton… Read More ›
Companion Piece
October 28, 2018 (Sunday) The moody look of the freeway heading east toward the foothills with the rain coming on and the color draining out, now down to yellow. Fog and clouds over the dark mountain contours. Lily and her… Read More ›
The same deep water as you
We went back to the old elementary school, Charlotte’s last year, for the annual Halloween bash. Dawn and I stood in the playground feeling tired and out of sorts, trying to make out the identities of kids running by as… Read More ›
October 21, 2018 (Sunday) Muted mornings of fog, leaving for work in the 6 o’clock hour and not getting home until 5, wondering if it’s going to pay off, this new job. Dawn saw the bob cat again by the… Read More ›
October 14, 2018 (Sunday) Sadly, I let myself get too annoyed often and it cut into my enjoyment of life. We rode in the Pilot to the pumpkin patch, all six of us, and I reminded Loren and Lily to… Read More ›
Song for the undoing
How the days went by like the poets said they would, like wild horses over the hills or worse: indistinct and unnoticed, unremarkable, not lived. Let the days be seen for their own worth, wild as horses, mysterious as the… Read More ›
October 7, 2018 (Sunday) In the den with the fruit flies on the couch I lay listening to the tic of the clock, the dog shifting, the sound of a jet outside, and nothing else worth noting. We are each… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 