“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 frozen bone hits the floor with that particular Friday sound — dense, satisfying, final. Everything else can wait.… — read more

The freezer door has been opened twice this morning. Once for ice. Once for nothing at all — just a long look inside, a… — read more

The patio. The sun. The beer in Dad’s hand catching light like amber glass and me beside his chair not moving not… — read more

The downtown walk was different without Gus working his circuit. Just Dad and I, past the storefronts where other dogs… — read more

The scent of hops still clings to Dad’s jacket this morning — faint but unmistakable, mixed with something else I cannot… — read more

The desk drawer opens with a particular sound — metal on wood, followed by the rustle of paper that means something has… — read more

The wool rug holds me differently today. Same texture, same warmth, but something underneath has shifted. Dad moves… — read more

The morning cookie arrives precisely at eight, as it has for three years running , a small tax on the new day that I… — read more

The radio in the studio carries news of humans circling the moon again, or planning to, the details blur into the… — read more

The camera arrived this morning and found me precisely where I intended to be found. There is something to be said for… — read more

Dad sits at his desk reading about humans going to the moon again. I am monitoring the cookie jar situation from the… — read more

The kitchen holds a different frequency this morning. Dad arrived earlier than usual, which disrupted the breakfast… — read more