When Dawn leaves town, Charlotte sleeps with me in our bed. Friday night, and she complained about the Brian Eno music, calling it spooky. So I carried the remains of that record with me up Cougar Mountain the next morning,… Read More ›
senses
Following false leads down the side streets to identity
Though it would hit 85 in Seattle (the last time for a year) I was sickly, pale and soft, an analogy to a piece of fruit that’s gone bad from the insides. I got off the phone with KLM to… 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 ›
Wait Until Dark
To cut out your sight and go inward lets you tune in to the small sounds that make your world. In the green house, the creak of the structure expanding with the heat, the dribble of basketballs and children’s talk,… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 