In the dark, in the window, in its tiny pot the orchid grows. The angles and edges we hardly notice while the orchid works to inhabit its small space. And for us no different, the quiet stirrings, the browned leaves,… Read More ›
poetry
The back of love
I made a figure-four of my legs, and lay in bed longing for rest. This mattress, the same my mom and stepdad slept on for years. But after he died my mom moved to another room and the mattress remained… Read More ›
For the other parents at the wilderness therapy graduation ceremony
In a lather of memory, in the coffee shop, I splashed the faces of the people I had known for a small time onto my face and thought, how intermingled we all are in this dance, how unnatural it must… Read More ›
The existential interstitial
Caught under the haze of morning the web of dreams I forgot who I was the name of the day where to step down In that liminal place feet hung dragged through air And the mind receded to give way… Read More ›
The weight of all we felt
This day could be drawn in pencil it’s so drab. The roads are wet with rain and the leaves are down, the birch with their spindly arms and dragon eyes, a tangle of dead leaves, a lone bird…this feeling of… Read More ›
From Julius to Augustus
July gives way to August, and as it goes we are all giving way in this roundabout of life where you’re supposed to yield to the right but most don’t know what that means or pretend they don’t, as it… 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 ›
Magna come loudly, Bill
I guess the window on William closed a long time ago, I’ve just gone by Bill. Been called Billy, but only to distinguish myself from the other Bills. A littler Bill, that Billy: a smaller version of his dad. Though… Read More ›
Song for reopening
And after so long, a whole season of seasons spent indoors, it sounds like the whole world is reawakening.
The new Walt Whitman smartphone
It fits in your palm like a lotus blossom, like a butterfly.
Bill Pearse 