“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Selected Works ✦
The archive — essays and observations, long thoughts and short ones. Some arrived slowly, turned over for days before landing. Others were finished before looking up. Both are correct. All of it belongs to the Pawscar Wilde series.

The picnic table bench is exactly basset height and I have claimed the entire thing. Dad sits across from us with — read more

The patio chairs are metal and cold through my fur. Gus has positioned himself where three different conversations — read more

The morning light has that thin Monday quality — present but uncommitted. Everything feels slightly off-center, like the — read more

The house settles into its nighttime rhythm. From my donut bed I can hear Dad's keyboard in the studio, a distant — read more

The Sunday is ending and I can feel it in my bones and also in the air and also in the way Gus is lying down but not — read more

I've settled into my donut bed with the precision of someone who has calculated the exact moment when Sunday becomes — read more

The light leaves differently on Sunday nights. Earlier and with less ceremony than it should. I have been watching — read more

Ball ball ball ball BALL and then it stops and I am standing in the exact center of the universe holding nothing and Gus — read more

Mom and Dad put on their green jerseys at 13:30. They have been checking the time since 13:00. The match starts at 13:45 — read more

The television makes sounds that suggest someone is not performing adequately. Mom and Dad lean forward on the sofa. — read more

Mom changes into her Timbers jersey at exactly 1:30. Dad puts on his scarf. They sit on the edge of the sofa — read more

Mom left for three days and the house has become something else entirely. Gus found the sandwich first. — read more