The never-ending stain on the rug at the threshold between the kitchen and the dining room has the tenacity of a birth mark, it’s as hard to remove, has become my daily penance, a Greek who’s upset the gods now on… Read More ›
1984
More and More, The Remote
I look at the painting but don’t recognize it, don’t remember where it came from, some faraway place, an alpine lake in blues, indigo, watercolor. I bathe myself in the sea salts of home. The smell of the pines outside… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 