How is it I have grown old, old in the best of ways they call “aged” and priced and valued as such, and hard to find. How is it I have grown old and at the same time renewed, this… Read More ›
poem
When the amber alert woke us at 3:43
We thought it was nuclear war and wished we’d bought more water and planned for this but instead it was just the life of some kid we didn’t know, not our own And we went back to bed with the… Read More ›
The bees’ knees
The bees are back to harvest the fruit of the flower, to pick through Jupiter’s beard and return to their angular rooms. And when they do, for that brief space between days, what’s it like in the hive with each… Read More ›
Can you picture what will be, so limitless and free
I miss the mornings, when there’s no one around. When I would buckle my belt as a state trooper would his holster and start my day sharp as an arrow, aimed at the center. But there is no one to… Read More ›
Split screen soliloquy
I don’t have cause to look in the mirror much but when I do, it’s more like checking in with an old friend. How’s it going? How’s it really going? I look deep into my eyes for the real answer…. Read More ›
Someday gold
The grass is so dry now it’s mostly brown, a brown you would call golden if you looked at it right. And what’s to stop us from calling it gold? This stretch of life resigned to a form of living… Read More ›
Broken antenna
My phone says good morning to me, beside today’s temperature there sits a happy golden sun throwing beams like an Egyptian glyph. Past my phone, outside the window, the sun plays on the tall trees where invisible birds peep and… Read More ›
Cast a shadow in my direction
There is so much to notice, starting with the shape of the land in this place beneath the big tree roots that’s roly-poly, not something you’d notice if you’re my size but definitely as an ant or a snake. Next… Read More ›
Take a look at my life, I’m a lot like you
I’ve been practicing what it feels like to be an old man for years now. An old man with all the good parts, none of the bad. The pace that is measured, unrushed. Days that spill out like a cracked… Read More ›
The way it ends
it’s hard to fathom all the words in the English language that must end with the letter m, or why anyone would think to put that in a poem. Thanks everyone for playing along on my 30-day posting streak!
Bill Pearse 