Back in Germany, Eberhard was like a floor warden in his vest he was so anal about my mom burning candles in the house. The place is 500 years old and all wood, there is that, and because it gets… Read More ›
prose
Rain prose, the election
When I got up it was dark and raining. I went outside to clean up dog poop because I needed something to do. The DJ was playing all songs about the election, and it seemed like every word meant something… Read More ›
We turned back
It was so dark this morning the sun didn’t come up until 8 and when it did no one noticed, the rain came back. Even the bistro lights were confused (they’re on a timer), they came on thinking it was… Read More ›
Dog ghost prose, one Friday
There was a study they did on foxes, on domesticating them. They set up shop near a den and began luring the foxes closer with treats and talking to them sweet. Of course the foxes liked it and started sticking… Read More ›
The first square
It was a strange night. Lily dressed up like Audrey Hepburn, with the gloves and the dress and the pearls, a cigarette holder, and Dawn put her hair up in a bun—and while I was at work I realized she’d… Read More ›
My writing partner, Penn State ’88
Dave Kravetz, his eyes through the smoke watching me read his poems, all those papers in his gunny sack, his camo jacket and cigarettes, his bleached hair a frozen wave crashing over one eye, his bad temperament (some story about… Read More ›
Rain prose, the election
Today the weather just turned. There was no beauty in the rain, no music in its falling, just a cold, dark rain. It was like that moment in the debate she said about his time in Mexico “he choked,” and… Read More ›
The 87
It’s almost time to go. The body snaps back like the rubber on a slingshot, hangs there limp for what’s next. The clock has a tick too. The cat understands no schedule. The rain has been going all night, it… Read More ›
How it felt before the storm
Though the storm had started I took Ginger for a walk. It was raining harder than you can imagine, and the frogs were going nuts — like a scene from the bible announcing something auspicious, or maybe they just wanted… Read More ›
A conference of the senses, the cedars
They blew the cedar branches out of the storm drains and Charlotte said it reminded her of Christmas, the smell. We were on the road last December driving from Galway down the southwest of Ireland, stopping in Cork to meet my… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 