How dim the light in the morning through the last brown leaves And the look of the limbs curled inwards, slumped low How soft the heater blows those long, solemn notes Like the sound of a car scraping down an… Read More ›
pacific northwest
The rhythm of trees falling down
Twelve days in a row writing the same marketing copy for a project we started in July that was supposed to end in September. Sitting at my desk in the bedroom while the sun set reading it a final time… Read More ›
‘The pink opaque’
Surprisingly, all the muscle I once had in my chest has loosened and now feels like a boob when I cup it in my hands. The kids lost or broke all the cell phone chargers, so we ordered more from… Read More ›
“Fall back”
I got as close to the light as I could though it was all gray and not much to speak of, and there in the corner of the window a stink bug fanned the glass with a limp leg, and… Read More ›
‘My mind is in garlands’
Our inability to get our kids to do stuff manifest itself most in their rooms. This week, after years of trying, I gave up. There are wet towels, empty bags of chips, old glasses of juice, clothes everywhere they should… Read More ›
Companion Piece
October 28, 2018 (Sunday) The moody look of the freeway heading east toward the foothills with the rain coming on and the color draining out, now down to yellow. Fog and clouds over the dark mountain contours. Lily and her… Read More ›
October 21, 2018 (Sunday) Muted mornings of fog, leaving for work in the 6 o’clock hour and not getting home until 5, wondering if it’s going to pay off, this new job. Dawn saw the bob cat again by the… Read More ›
The smell of freshly cut grass in mid-October, summer’s scent, a lover’s fragrance. The clouds more like spring than fall, texture of sheep’s wool. The grass is wet and the cat walks upon it daintily. I spilled half my beer… Read More ›
October 7, 2018 (Sunday) In the den with the fruit flies on the couch I lay listening to the tic of the clock, the dog shifting, the sound of a jet outside, and nothing else worth noting. We are each… Read More ›
Down the hill, from green to black
I got the ax out of the chicken coop to split the wood for the first autumn fire. Without ceremony, I hung the lawn chairs in the garage for the season and put away the hammock and lawn furniture. A… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 