I saw your face through the frame of a dream I put it together from memory, like a snowman: The eyes, nose, smile I said I love you and looked back for a reaction, To see if it was real… Read More ›
postaday
Life is a special occasion
I had a $150 gift card I got from work, for a high-end steak restaurant in Bellevue. It’s not the kind of place I would normally go, but figured we would make the best of it; it was a nice… Read More ›
Poet modeling: notes from the dentist’s waiting room
I walk the city in the morning as it’s waking up: shop owners sweeping the sidewalks after the storm, lights coming on in the apartment windows, a million lives to live in the red brick buildings overlooking the city, due… Read More ›
The New Gothic
I don’t know what brought on this movement in the 70s, but I’m glad for it: glad, because there’s gloomy music I can turn to for inspiration. Glad, because I know there’s others with dark thoughts who stick to the… Read More ›
In between the nether-lands of dreams
I enter the shop and trip a chime and it’s the same tone on my phone that wakes me: new message. I wrote this in my sleep. I’m walking down the row of cubes, at work, naked. There’s people in my… Read More ›
A mouthful of slurry: on faking it
Fake It Till You Make It. That’s the best advice I got out of college, and it came from a guy selling knock-off perfume. He put an ad in the paper that got me to show up, along with a… Read More ›
Among the Leaves | Weekly Writing Challenge
Maybe it’s just because it’s that time of year, but this song made me cry last November when I read the lyrics. Red House Painters, Desertshore, Sun Kil Moon, it’s all Mark Kozelek, and I love to get sad with… Read More ›
Caught between the slide alder and Charybdis
Brad over-estimated my climbing abilities and I didn’t know enough to know I had, too. We got the idea to climb a couple peaks in the Olympic mountains in early November, which is hard because you have about half the… Read More ›
Shadow imprint of a soul: what’s timeless
Souls make snow-angels in the dog bed, where Ginger curls up by the fire. And after she’s gone, the mind still sees after-images of her there and has to check itself, for time: For what time we’re in, now? How it… Read More ›
Dream about a boy who turned to stone: online loneliness
We go to our corners, the family. There’s the TV and the kitchen for the genders to split, devices for the teenagers to keep them docile, interested, present. Life spins in a prism of thoughts and distractions, frames. Most you… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 