The chicken brined and so did I, in a solution of salt, memories and music. That Easter in France with Rob and Paul roasting the lamb — then the one 30 years ago I had to work at the drug… Read More ›
short form
Sonata for flute and harpsichord
Happy plumes of smoke from the chimney, the log house behind ours. Now that it’s for sale, they leave the lights on all night and day, and it glows through the trees and bushes, happy plumes of smoke like a… Read More ›
Stormy skies one Sunday
After all the noise from the weekend, it was good to come down to our den and just sit in the morning quiet. Outside the skies looked stormy, and I thought about the porn star and the president, the interview… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 