SAMMAMISH, WA 29th VII 2015 Climbed the dead end road Beth lives on barefoot with a glass of wine to admire the moon. Hoped I’d see the bear that’s been shitting in her yard. Speculated all month what made the… Read More ›
spirituality
Dots on the hill
Last Friday in the States until sometime next spring. Moon fattens to a claw. Danced the trifecta of drink starting with Tequila out of pint glasses sucked through straws, licking the sides, backcountry animal tongue. Took the morning walk to… Read More ›
Half a summertime ago
I’ve taken to a big steer named Cowboy who lives over the hill from my mother-in-law’s at the Second Hand Ranch, where they take in animals who would otherwise be turned into coats or eaten. But flies gather around his… Read More ›
Richard Brautigan is dead at 49
It took about a month for them to find his body and a whole lot longer than that for him to be discovered while he was alive. And he is there at the roadside jotting down notes by a flattened… Read More ›
Is your religion a cult?
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 ›
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 ›
Bill Pearse 