I don’t think our shrubs like being pruned with a chainsaw. Some look traumatized. Years ago when our landscaping crew pruned they made everything look like lollipops. We’ve now grown out of that and I do it myself. After being… Read More ›
prose
Burning man
Though it was early morning and a strange time to do it I lit a fire in the firepit with last night’s coals and the logs that were charred and dampened by the early morning rain. It could be hard… Read More ›
Sunday sermon
I went outside and sprayed coyote urine on the tulips to keep the deer and rabbits away. I don’t know if it’s coyote urine but it smells like hell. I don’t know how they get it in a bottle either…. Read More ›
Over the Neptune
This bar is his bar. What he’s like matters less than the personality of the bar he conforms to. We enter by the restrooms off to the side. It smells like what you’d expect from a city bar. But they… Read More ›
Non-pedigree version
For no obvious reason the cat paws at the framed painting on the wall of the den in the corner behind a tall bedraggled plant and beside a Tiffany lamp. They’ve now had to take down most framed pictures from… Read More ›
Post to 1970s me
I want the innocence of the 1970s again. Of rollerskating to disco music as a kid. Roller coasters, carnival food, the Jersey shore. Fireworks displays, sidewalk chalk, the ice cream man. I miss the feel of an old phone, a… Read More ›
Saturday morning entry
Closing my eyes to the after images of weed leaf patterns. The sharp edges of being fully in the now. Taken to mid-morning naps on the sofa in the den with the morning light and pets, a greenhouse warmth and… Read More ›
Not being high at the Habit burger restaurant
Back when I got high I sometimes wondered what it would be like to not get high when I was getting high. Like could the indescribable quality of this world be perceived otherwise? I never thought it could be and… Read More ›
Morning’s mantra, April
Springtime is one of the most beautiful times where we live. It’s a bath of sensory delights, especially in early morning. The distant woodpecker rattle, the sweet birdsong as it builds. Some crows and repetitive sounds all layered together. I… Read More ›
My heart aches for these days
In the morning on the warmest day it’s still cool but you can feel the temperature start to change. I get to the park earlier than normal and the sky is the color of abalone shell, turquoise mixed with pink…. Read More ›
Bill Pearse 