Two weeks ago, we went to brunch at the local ale house and I tried to nap before going to the airport. In a moment of clarity, Lily deleted all the data on her phone and gave it to Charlotte,… Read More ›
depression
Weltschmerz
I have grown tired from too much poetry and these everyday ironies, have sunken inwards, as a spot in our lawn that’s slowly turned to a hole, now something we’re forced to address, the frost level come up, the remains… Read More ›
The weight that won’t shake
After a week of snow it finally broke, and started to melt and with it sliding off the branches and dripping off the gutters it looked like the sky was crying, the earth collapsing in on itself and with the… Read More ›
Dream state of awareness, one day
We really just don’t have much time, which is why I get up in the mornings to write. I thought that walking with Benny in the morning yesterday, to the fields. He asked, now that you’re back in Seattle and… Read More ›
The last of the daily monastic offices
There was a problem with the house work I think. I couldn’t stop going between the laundry room and the den and lost track of who I was, I got covered in dog hair and slacks I wore across Europe… Read More ›
‘Where he’d really be’ (for Alfred Lambert)
There’d been some sun for a few minutes in the morning but then it went back to gray and acted like it would storm. The days fanned out like messily cracked eggs fumbling for the edges of the pan, legless… Read More ›
Open your heart to the trees
The doormat can’t go askew but it does, and I have to straighten it each time I go by. Cats act no different than people when they’re high on cat nip, on drugs: self-centered, prone to violent acts. Still I… Read More ›
Happy poet blues: the upside of down
There’s some good that can come from feeling down. The punchline to most jokes is someone getting hurt and if that’s your life, now you’ve got something to work with. If nothing bad’s happened to you yet, you’ll have to… Read More ›
Mad Sounds Like This
Ginger has her tongue inside the Boston Terrier’s ear, Minnie, and Minnie is glazed over dreamily, angling-in deeper to Ginger. I’m pressed against the leather couch, part of it, losing sensation of where my skin ends and the leather begins,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 