The grass is going brown already, but I won’t water it. I hadn’t laid on it yet, on my back with the dog in the sun, afternoon wine, nothing to do, nowhere to be. Like the August we went to… Read More ›
travel
Confessing to the internet
It’s good to get things off your chest. They don’t belong there: put them on the Internet. Out here, there’s subway walls extending beyond the moon for spray paint, murals, poems. And it doesn’t come off. I’ve been following a… Read More ›
The ambivalence of airports
Airports are soul-suckers, They take on the life of their subjects but have none of their own. No one goes to the airport to be at the airport, but airports are necessary like doctors’ offices and hospitals: We all pass… Read More ›
The After-Life
We stop at a rest area somewhere west of Ritzville. The girls go to the bathroom, and I take Ginger to the designated Pet Area. It’s starting to cool off, and the light is softening to that golden, early evening… Read More ›
Man-kissing in Spain
We drove several hours down the east coast of Spain to a three-day music festival in Benicàssim. I didn’t plan well, and realized once we got there they didn’t have cash machines. I assumed I could get some using my debit… Read More ›
It happens in the eyes
Country roads back East, clouds threatening to meet. I can’t tell you how to get there, but I know each turn. Jim explains the meaning of objects in his garage: the cheap, red bow hung on the wall is the… Read More ›
Time’s a Thief
Jim is drinking Vodka with his orange juice. I can tell because he’s using small goblets and sipping, and why would a grown man drink juice at night? Dad adds whatever wine is nearby and open to whatever wine is… Read More ›
Chantez, chantez
Laurent told my mom he had to go to the car to get some things, and gestured for me to join. It was the kind of gesture that implied wrongdoing, a wink from across the table. We were in the… Read More ›
Green, Orange
Moss is emerging in our yard like a new nation, making the trees look like a psychedelic Yes album or a Tolkien book. I relocated the remains of the fruit tree to the back, day-dreamed in the hot tub, thought… Read More ›
Invocation
I gave up looking for Emmett’s body and made my way back up the hillside, to the house. The dog had escaped the Invisible Fence, through the snow, without a trace of his footprints, just vanished. It was January, 1998:… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 