When I look through the trees at the park near our house they are all pretty much the same as when we started coming here—like me, a bit older but still the same, mostly unnoticed. And the kids were so… Read More ›
autumn poetry
The soul dies first
At the end of it, the wick is either cut too short or it’s so long, it falls on its side and can’t stand up, won’t light. And so much wax left, in the shape of what remains. This body… Read More ›
Red wine and rain (repeat 3x, fast)
Down came the rain like a permanent marker. The permanence of fall, of nature, of flame. And the gutters gasped, and the rain slapped until it made sparks when it hit. And down the panes like a waterfall, the cadence… Read More ›
‘slowdive’
It is the time of moody records and blankets, and nearly the time of candles. Though there’s late afternoon sun it doesn’t have the same warmth and it’s wet, the ground smells, the earth sighs: and we are all holding… Read More ›
Rainer Maria Rilke made me write this
The afternoon sky looks pregnant but it’s too early to tell. And the tall trees reach to tickle its belly with stick fingers drawn by a kid. The dishwasher and drier are running, and there’s a pot on the stove… Read More ›
Song for mid-autumn morning
In the morning just past 6, though it might as well be the middle of the night. Headlights cut the dark, but it always grows back. The fog gives an illusion of light through the ambiguity it stirs, makes snow… Read More ›
Broken clouds (in the face of mirrors)
The sky returned what we saw in it but like a mirror, it lied: It lied on your wedding day when you thought it brightened just for you: It lied when you carried your cat to the vet’s office to… Read More ›
Mid-autumn morning
Sun blotted to a smudge, that’s all. No wind, only jets, frogs, clocks: barely a sound when the last leaf falls.
This is all we have, right now
Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re gone, the way you half-smiled the same as me — the last time we talked on the phone I remember, your stories about the time you were in London too. Maybe every moment is… Read More ›
How it felt before the storm
Though the storm had started I took Ginger for a walk. It was raining harder than you can imagine, and the frogs were going nuts — like a scene from the bible announcing something auspicious, or maybe they just wanted… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 