Though it would hit 85 in Seattle (the last time for a year) I was sickly, pale and soft, an analogy to a piece of fruit that’s gone bad from the insides. I got off the phone with KLM to… Read More ›
writers block
Then the rain came
The cat knocked the plastic owl off the patio pot and its head separated from the body and rolled away, then lay in plain sight with the rain coming down, too hard to fix. And in the morning I found… Read More ›
Sugar for the pill
I left work, got in the car, turned up the heat. Stopped at Whole Foods and spent $59 on sushi, beer, incense, an organic squash and head of garlic. Caught myself chewing the hair that grows beneath my lip driving… Read More ›
32/30, more like 34
The jeans were getting harder to get into and the beers harder to get out of. The beers were getting easier to get into and the jeans to get out of. The reclining chair was bent and sagged but I pulled… Read More ›
Ant prose, baiting strategies
We got an ant problem. The landscapers cleaned up all the beds outside and must have kicked up a colony. It started benign enough, one here, one there, but then they started crawling up the walls and in my beard… Read More ›
This bag is not a toy
Dawn’s cell phone alarm goes off in bed but she lies there listening to the rain thinking about work and I lie there doing the same, thinking about acquiring some. The rain collects in a corner outside, it’s probably something… Read More ›
Backwater (Philly memoir reblog)
I am surrounded by dots, to connect. One analogy is a sky full of stars with constellations and stories, how they got there. Another, drops of rain falling on a lake, how they ripple in circles and random patterns dissolving… Read More ›
Bad thoughts precede bad thoughts: flying, drinking, writing, landing
Flying, sipping brandy out of a cup, 5 in the morning. Leaning back in our blankets, in our seats, reclining. We raise our hands to the displays and tap the screens and look as dull and robotic as the figures… Read More ›
Leave this page
Enter Title Here. Confirm Navigation. My computer’s in my pocket, with me in the toilet, between my legs when I’m driving, on my lap now. It’s a pet that doesn’t need water or parasite treatments, a pet that talks back… Read More ›
The sound of the rain
I sit by an open window in the dark with the rain, waiting for a picture of a sound, a spark. But the rain is just a sheet of paper crumbling over and over again, not an ocean tide or… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 