You couldn’t see the moon because of the clouds but with it almost full it made the night sky milky white. More wind had raked down branches throughout the yard, pine needles too. My new haz mat suit was waiting… Read More ›
journal writing
Last Sunday in November
So long 54. With Thanksgiving late in the month this year it runs headlong into Christmas and no one’s missing a beat. My birthday fell the Sunday after turkey day and we went back to our favorite neighborhood restaurant, Jak’s…. Read More ›
For Frank
Great big scoops of sleep. Sleep like slipping down a sliding board. Pillowy clouds of sleep to sail away upon. Sleep like disappearing. Woke remembering my uncle Frank, brother to my grandmother, forever single. Why do they always pick on… Read More ›
Beware of Maya
Drab autumn days. Leaves the color of old copper coins. Days meant for sofas and blankets and gloomy tunes. In short, my favorite kind of days. Days of tea and cloudy afternoons and poetry. Days of naps and not brushing… Read More ›
Rorschach
Up again before the timed lights came on. And then they were on. The cold that has you coiled in on yourself yearning for warmth. First thoughts of the day, mirror image of the last: how the coffee tumbler was… Read More ›
Dark enough
At last all the leaves were down. I used the tractor to grind them to bits and the blower to scatter the remains. In no time I’d been to Portland and back to the dark of my morning den. The… Read More ›
Waning crescent
Made plans to drive to Portland for the weekend and see my childhood friend for a night. Woke at 0330 too excited to sleep and used my phone light to pack an overnight bag: just my toothbrush and night guard,… Read More ›
Renewal
I went to our local Indian bazaar for fresh curry leaves and bought what I thought was spinach but when I looked at my receipt it said pulsaag, an Indian spinach alternative also known as basella, a climbing vine. I… Read More ›
Sad Classical
For as much as I liked walking in the dark it was much better in the pre-dawn, more color in the sky. Nobody out on a Saturday but me and the rabbits. More reason for the owls hooting I guess…. Read More ›
Laszlo, Charlotte, Dawn, Timmy, the moon
Mom’s Hungarian lodger Laszlo made plans to move out. Charlotte and her friends are at an age they’ve started experimenting with alcohol. Dawn and I began a routine of going out on Fridays for dinner and sat by the window… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 