Anthony made fun of me for having plans Friday afternoon to meet with the Mormons at our house. He said why are you doing it, so you can blog about it? That was part-true. They were supposed to be here… Read More ›
spirituality
The spirit begat you
The old fishermen who gather on the docks in the early morning bundled, bent over, drawing out line and outfitted with plastic bags and baseball caps The sky clouds trees, The water reminds us there is more than ourselves and that’s why… Read More ›
A slurry of scraps and symbols
We drink the blood of Christ from plastic cups and it turns our tongues red, seals us in our symbols and the art of make believe that is faith, belief without proof. And as I enter you I forget myself,… Read More ›
Hold me put, here
It’s either a dead worm or part of a banana adhered to the grout in the kitchen tile; it’s gotten that bad, the house. Shrew-killing season in full swing for the cats and some, catch and release style. The cats… Read More ›
What we keep, who we are
I’ve broken through a membrane in our garage, the garage that’s bigger than some apartments I’ve lived in, where our kids can ride their bikes or scooters when there’s no cars and I’ve cleared the boxes to the side. The garage,… Read More ›
Moon song for März
The moon is yellow and full and low in the sky and the sky no longer drops now, it’s a slow fade to dusk. I walk the lake road and a car comes round the bend and with the swoosh… Read More ›
Just for us
The moon is hanging on by a nail and we are all bound to fall that way too, to rise in the morning and repeat the same cycle: to expand and recede, sometimes close to Earth, sometimes obscured. They make… Read More ›
The Grandfather Tree
It’s the Fourth of July and we’re an hour north of Spokane in Eastern Washington, where it’s hot. Brad drew a map showing the way to his cabin, through gates and pathways in the forest. We’re not sure we’re at… Read More ›
On faith and football and dreams
Ginger and I have been out corkscrewing hillsides in the Issaquah Alps, trying to lose track of time and find ourselves in the woods. I carry my notepad with me and stop to write, and she comes to collect me…. 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 ›
Bill Pearse 