If you believe in souls, or souls without homes they call spirits, than you can keep yourself occupied in my mom’s house imagining them. It can also make you nuts—mom says it’s hardest living alone here this time of year…. Read More ›
souls
Love songs, prose, for the Pacific coast
How the clouds hung on the horizon off the water and made two lines, I thought they were grinding their teeth. All the mountains ground down from the pressure of the sky pushing on them and the earth, where they… Read More ›
Which is true of anything (for DFW)
It started with the glassy-eyed couple at the lake. They had a dog too. They sounded like they used drugs or lived in Northern California, you could tell by the way they talked. The guy said you can teach a… Read More ›
You can see why they thought they were spirits
What started off clear became obscured by the cloud’s thickening brow. The night passed on to dawn, this time we contemplate the dead. And we pass down a darkened lane to the end, past the signs and arrows carved in the… Read More ›
The true meaning of karma
I nap while the beef simmers in the stove, thickening over the house, day sagging into night. There is coffee and beer and water in between to wash us out, to cleanse us, bobbing up and down upon days. I… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 