We really lived in that house, if it was the wrapping we were the candy, the present, and inside there stirred our souls and the house bore witness and the calendar pages flipped, the seasons passed, our photos on the… Read More ›
Poetry
Stones and bones [cemetery song]
Once you make a major purchase (house, car, major appliances) things invariably start breaking down and costing more money. Things break in multiples, the same with bad omens (in 3’s, 5’s, 7’s, like the number of days you can expect… Read More ›
Poem written for my daughter on a cell phone
How hard you wanted for that moment and lifted your chin for a scratch and so vivid it was, as you forgot — and the feeling hardly a memory or a glance, the way with dreams you’re sure it was… Read More ›
Last reflection before bed
The essence of the day was lost to the holes and spaces where memory goes, the leaks and gaps that take what you don’t see. And sad to think, a whole life can pass by like that, unseen. Photo from… Read More ›
Song for company reorganizations in F sharp
Now there’s a different feel to the company for those who have been there long enough and know what to expect: It’s half-way through the fiscal cycle so they know how they’ve done the first half and can predict the… Read More ›
Dark morning walk
Now the dark you thought would abate just hangs on (or lightens, depending on your point of view) still it’s hard to change from what window you see the world, that view.
Painting lessons for pessimists
The future is a sham of hope and fear- based paints that can’t advance beyond the crudeness of our own imagination.
Morning prayer
The grizzled look of a lawn covered in frost and all the tiny diamonds there, a Morse code for sight. Photo credit, Loren Chasse.
Bone piece
The memoir, the story of your life, is an object of questionable value. You hold it in your hands, shake, listen: what’s inside? Is there a lock? Does it open? What’s it for? You could take it to someone who… Read More ›
21 Dezember (Song for Solstice)
21 Dezember 17, Donnerstag “For the shortest day” Some days fall through the cracks — most days aren’t worth saving, but it’s OK there isn’t much room.
Bill Pearse 