Pawscar Wilde
“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Selected Works ✦
From the Chaise Longue
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 Sound of Tuesday
The radio in the studio carries news of humans circling the moon again, or planning to, the details blur into the… — read more
On Being Photographed Without Trying
The camera arrived this morning and found me precisely where I intended to be found. There is something to be said for… — read more
The moon can wait; the cookies require immediate supervision
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 Mathematics of Celebration
The kitchen holds a different frequency this morning. Dad arrived earlier than usual, which disrupted the breakfast… — read more
The Geometry of Devotion, Thinly Folded
Dad produced crepes this morning. Not pancakes—crepes. The distinction appears meaningful to him, though both are… — read more
The Arithmetic of Browned Butter and Domestic Theology
The scent of butter browning in the cast iron pan carries something beyond breakfast. It settles into the kitchen walls… — read more
The Suspicious Charm of Deliberately Placed Colorful Things
The yard smelled different this morning. Something sweet lingered between the junipers – not the usual pine and earth… — read more
Some Puzzles Require Only a Nose and Patience
The yard holds scattered mysteries in robin’s egg blue and buttercup yellow. I catalog each one during my morning… — read more
The Mathematics of Sunday Morning
Twenty-three bright ovals scattered across the grass this morning, each one carrying the particular weight of someone… — read more
Seventeen Orbs, Zero Explanations, One Basset Hound
Many colored orbs scattered across the grass like someone finally answered a question nobody asked. Each one precisely… — read more
A Hound's Guide to Plastic Eggs and Existential Clarity
The smell hits me before I see them. Dozens of plastic eggs scattered across the yard like someone threw confetti that s — read more
The Screaming, the Zoomies, and My Profound Stillness
The humans are screaming at the television and I am here for every decibel of it. Green shirts running. Ball flying. — read more