This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. You wear it on your body, and you don’t even know what it means? Allanah grated potatoes onto… Read More ›
loss
A fair way to go
It is the hour of 4, and the light is best for where I sit on the chaise-lounge, beside the scabby hot tub that’s been dry all summer. The hot tub is kaput because the large fir popped up the… Read More ›
Song from a shell
In the icy depths of sleep, in dreams, you held me when I was no one, just myself, a shell You held me at the edges where I could have been anyone, but wasn’t— and in sleep, in dreams, is… Read More ›
Walking down the unlit hallway of life
Outside in the mid-afternoon there was just the sound of birds and kids and cars going by. It was too hot for anything, everyone hanging onto the edges by the shade. I’d gotten up when the church bells struck six… Read More ›
The god of only children
For some reason when I’m in Portland I feel like I can be more myself, maybe because no one knows me here. I wake and walk down César Chávez to the Starbucks in the cool, marine air. And remember the… Read More ›
The black Opal kombi connection | Field notes from the Pacific coast
This is a series of posts I started in late May and plan to continue for 40 days, with a goal of hitting 50,000 words by July 5 (#33 post). It’s inspired by a three-day solo trek on the Washington… Read More ›
The Tower card, reversed | Field notes from the Pacific coast
This is a series of posts I started in late May and plan to continue for 40 days, with a goal of hitting 50,000 words by July 5 (#30 post). It’s inspired by a three-day solo trek on the Washington… Read More ›
Suicide in the Alps (father figure theme) | Field notes from the Pacific coast
This is a series of posts I started in late May and plan to continue for 40 days, with a goal of hitting 50,000 words by July 5 (at 30K!). It’s inspired by a three-day solo trek on the Washington… Read More ›
That exquisite pose, prose
It wasn’t supposed to snow or smell like dog puke still in the corner of the sofa but it did both (it smelled and snowed), and I tightened my scarf and went out after dark but it was starting to… Read More ›
The scene with my grandfather in a dream
In my dream my grandfather was there and I thought this is the last time I will see my grandfather and then he was gone flickering between a photo and a living, breathing grandfather and in the street a wake… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 