Author Archives: jillbpearlman

How I Learned to Love the Bomb Cyclone

The Shape of Snow Needlepoint of snow in the streetlight cross stitches in the gusting wind. Cars begin to disappear, the nearby elms fade in the distance. By the shore, four sharks roll up, bone dead, though a dog learns … Continue reading

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See Feelingly

  My wish for the coming year: to clear our eyes.  To see with feeling again.   To not just see broad strokes, cartoonish outlines, the wild and wooly, but to see deep.  See beyond. From the other side of the … Continue reading

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What gives in Florida, Hamlet?

Petite mort, as the French call orgasm, is a little death but also an ecstasy.  And in ecstasy, experience compresses in a single dose of timelessness. By that logic, my quick trip to Florida last week was a little ecstasy. … Continue reading

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In Crisis: Poignancy

  In Crisis: Poignancy Attempt emergency resuscitation: it lays on a pyre of fighting words, gasping and fluttering. The lilting head of a blue hydrangea thick and petalled, thinking. Even brooding is old-fashioned. Bludgeon me with your compassion. Shout it … Continue reading

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In Autumn’s Vase

Glass so thin today, we in the lower bowl are swelled by light and air, clear atmosphere, brilliantly tinted by elm trees a hundred feet above our heads The yellow jazzes even if it’s November’s hour glass; then sands ting … Continue reading

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Gatsby in Seattle

Growing up in Pittsburgh, we knew a lot about the Carnegies, Mellons, Fricks.  Once these robber barons made their fortunes in the ruthless American way, they moved towards polishing their elbows, cultivating art and manners through acquiring European art and … Continue reading

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Portland: So Who’s Weird?

No, you’re weird!  Portland wants to say we’re not the problem, dude, you are!  We’re repurposing our buildings from the old West and turning them into little boutiques, craft beer joints; we love grunge, even on Monday nights when the … Continue reading

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Birthday/Willing Suspension

  Willing suspension of disbelief – how useful to have jargon at hand when age creeps. Those numbers, no! It’s just accounting of yesterday and tomorrow, for today’s moment is out of time. Enchantment has long been one of my … Continue reading

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Flute Music of September

    Flute Music of September Welcome back, self, after a most social August.  My espadrilles are mercifully silent on the brick the soft rope and rubber sole help me hear the cleansing flute music of September. I’m eavesdropping on … Continue reading

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Summer of Love

  As if I were totally innocent of the question, and the conundrum fresh and unexamined, I asked myself while brushing my teeth this morning: artist: what’s the right thing to do? As if I had not been studying what … Continue reading

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