We are all just trying to get by, living off trash and whatever we can.
pacific northwest
The interstitials
Sitting outside as the storm gathers, on the outer edge of it: thinking that all things have their edges good or bad, where they begin.
Breaking our kids from screens
The stream of consciousness is real, our perception is sharpened by stillness. You can drink from it and feel refreshed.
The geometry of circumstance and absolute truths
They say the body is the outermost layer of the mind.
Longing for home
Like passing through the atmosphere and trying to see outside the plane, but it’s hard to make out anything below or know when we’re going to land.
Outside Atlantis
So sadly defined by work, cut out like a bowl.
Touching from a distance
Well, this weekend I trimmed my toenails and put out the flag. We didn’t make any plans. I moved a knobby round of firewood up to the fire pit so we could use it as a side table. And broke… Read More ›
Rainy day, dream away
In that dream they came down and the kids ran for them, a spinning set of swings in the air with hats falling from the sky and a big field with the sound of children running to catch them, one… Read More ›
Blues to Elvin
Mondays are best for jazz.
Blacking out the friction
Of course I remembered the name Dick Boac, he worked at Martin Guitars as an “archivist,” a Falstaff type. But I couldn’t remember anything more about him because he was John’s friend, and John died more than 10 years ago… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 