I think about Charlotte coming down the steps in the morning, her hair a bird’s nest, the pitter-patter of bare feet across the floor. When it was especially hard early on in parenting, Dawn reminded me it wouldn’t always be… Read More ›
life
Magic and Loss
I got stuck the last two days trying to write about Lou Reed, but it was me, not Lou Reed, that got in the way. Lou Reed doesn’t really have anything to do with it. He came up on Shuffle… Read More ›
“Trapped in the amber of this moment”
I finished the Harry Potter series on Saturday, and felt the loss at the end of the story, no more. I got cranky and unmotivated, hard to be around. I started getting obsessed with death themes. I had a dream… Read More ›
Song for autumn
A piece of fuzz in the air, a seed-bloom, a soul, will-o’-the-wisp leading me to uplit trees, quiet hillsides, hidden peaks. A voice, a dream, a memory, the sunset in autumn and softening light: Who can pretend the angle doesn’t affect… Read More ›
Tender flowers underfoot
Warm nights, falling asleep to the fan and the Classical music program, the loving narration of the voice in the radio. The summer’s sad decline: it comes on fast and goes out slow. You might have 20 left, more or… Read More ›
When I’m there I’m not
Connecting! I’m on the text now because I got one while I sat at the restaurant across from my kids, coloring. We step outside to take it down, it’s so good. (It’s like we’re here now, but not. I can see… Read More ›
Killing Time, Making Time, Wasting Time
I don’t know what it’s “about.” That’s what people want to know when you say you’ve written something, that’s the first question. Is it published, what’s it about? I don’t make time for a pipeline, for blog posts. I spin… Read More ›
Purpose
Charlotte loses her dollar from the tooth fairy, but it takes too long to look for it, and we give up. The woman outside the supermarket is selling newspapers for the homeless, and I buy one. She compliments Charlotte’s sweater,… 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 ›
Put things back
I’ve been carrying around this Pendaflex of old writing for years, and yesterday I made the mistake of getting it out. I haven’t read most of it since it was written, dating back to 1992. Once you start, it’s hard… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 