My grandfather has fallen asleep with a paperback in his lap, hands braided, glasses on — and I watch his reflection from the bathroom mirror where someone has left a stick of deodorant by the sink that says Sure, and I am… Read More ›
Jersey Shore
Song for summer
The morning is damp Constellation of birdsong Punctuation by frog, by crow The Earth bends on itself and we grab hold: our feet to the sky, hair to the ground, stomachs in our chest There is surf, seagulls, the sound… Read More ›
Prism
The prism is a piece of cut crystal hung in my window. We bought it at the Jersey shore in the late 70s when I was a little boy. I asked my dad for it when I was going off… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 