I enter the shop and trip a chime and it’s the same tone on my phone that wakes me: new message. I wrote this in my sleep. I’m walking down the row of cubes, at work, naked. There’s people in my… Read More ›
art
Among the Leaves | Weekly Writing Challenge
Maybe it’s just because it’s that time of year, but this song made me cry last November when I read the lyrics. Red House Painters, Desertshore, Sun Kil Moon, it’s all Mark Kozelek, and I love to get sad with… Read More ›
Shadow imprint of a soul: what’s timeless
Souls make snow-angels in the dog bed, where Ginger curls up by the fire. And after she’s gone, the mind still sees after-images of her there and has to check itself, for time: For what time we’re in, now? How it… Read More ›
Dream about a boy who turned to stone: online loneliness
We go to our corners, the family. There’s the TV and the kitchen for the genders to split, devices for the teenagers to keep them docile, interested, present. Life spins in a prism of thoughts and distractions, frames. Most you… Read More ›
Song for madness, ode to moon
The halo around the moon is the son of madness who follows a cold light who sits inside shadows haunted by sounds — a footstep, a figure, a face… who’s fallen for his own reflection, has nothing but himself and… Read More ›
What’s true
Sometimes, people will forgive what’s true. Even if it’s not good, not right, it’s true. That’s what comes in to play when you hear music that’s real, it sings of its own accord. It hovers above the Plane of Attachment,… Read More ›
Don’t Stop Believin’
Journey, Aerosmith’s ‘Dream On’: in my forming years of the 70s I latched on to these themes. I watched myself in the mirror, mouthed the words, and dreamed who I could be, with no limits. My kids are at that… Read More ›
The best place for an idea
…isn’t your head. It starts there of course, but if it never leaves, that’s where it will end. We filter ideas for a variety of reasons, fear being the biggest, along with its brainy cousin, “discretion.” No, the best place… Read More ›
The art of disassembly
I dreamed my way through those days, propped myself up like a scarecrow, couldn’t fool the crows. If you want to know how something works you have to take it apart first, which applies to people, too. That’s what therapists… Read More ›
I hear sadness
You can hear what you want to hear – or if you’re not lucky, you can’t control it. I like the sound of sadness, when it’s based in love and celebration, a last goodbye, until next time. So I hear… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 