I’m happy for November because it’s the one year anniversary since I started writing again. It’s not what I’m writing that makes me happy, but the fact I’m doing it, and it’s changed the way I look at life. Last… Read More ›
NaNoWriMo
Love binds you in sleep
I saw your face through the frame of a dream I put it together from memory, like a snowman: The eyes, nose, smile I said I love you and looked back for a reaction, To see if it was real… Read More ›
Life is a special occasion
I had a $150 gift card I got from work, for a high-end steak restaurant in Bellevue. It’s not the kind of place I would normally go, but figured we would make the best of it; it was a nice… Read More ›
Poet modeling: notes from the dentist’s waiting room
I walk the city in the morning as it’s waking up: shop owners sweeping the sidewalks after the storm, lights coming on in the apartment windows, a million lives to live in the red brick buildings overlooking the city, due… Read More ›
The New Gothic
I don’t know what brought on this movement in the 70s, but I’m glad for it: glad, because there’s gloomy music I can turn to for inspiration. Glad, because I know there’s others with dark thoughts who stick to the… Read More ›
In between the nether-lands of dreams
I enter the shop and trip a chime and it’s the same tone on my phone that wakes me: new message. I wrote this in my sleep. I’m walking down the row of cubes, at work, naked. There’s people in my… Read More ›
A mouthful of slurry: on faking it
Fake It Till You Make It. That’s the best advice I got out of college, and it came from a guy selling knock-off perfume. He put an ad in the paper that got me to show up, along with a… Read More ›
Among the Leaves | Weekly Writing Challenge
Maybe it’s just because it’s that time of year, but this song made me cry last November when I read the lyrics. Red House Painters, Desertshore, Sun Kil Moon, it’s all Mark Kozelek, and I love to get sad with… Read More ›
Caught between the slide alder and Charybdis
Brad over-estimated my climbing abilities and I didn’t know enough to know I had, too. We got the idea to climb a couple peaks in the Olympic mountains in early November, which is hard because you have about half the… Read More ›
Shadow imprint of a soul: what’s timeless
Souls make snow-angels in the dog bed, where Ginger curls up by the fire. And after she’s gone, the mind still sees after-images of her there and has to check itself, for time: For what time we’re in, now? How it… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 