Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Firsts and lasts
Charlotte, about to start her last year of high school, says she’s starting to have her last firsts: last first day of school. Or this could be her “first last” too, school-wise. Last homecoming dance. “First last” and “last first”… Read More ›
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No quarter
It happened too soon, the season of repose, I turned in too soon Me on that ridge alone in the summer by the mountain with no one around for miles Coming upon a buck then a bear, my voice echoing… Read More ›
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The dark part of the park
From the recent rains the leaves looked glossy in the forest, the spiky sala and leaning ferns, and it was easy to imagine all the plant life felt happy. And how these species of flora weren’t much different than what… Read More ›
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Last quarter
I walked to our neighborhood park, the one on the lake by our house. It gets a lot of traffic this time of year with the early morning anglers fishing off the dock and the teenagers and toddlers who flock… Read More ›
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Low-angled light (for Rosemerry)
Low-angled light, especially in the morning, different angles of light at different times of the year. The low-angled light through the forest when it’s amber colored or even tawny if there’s wildfires. How the impressionists were drawn to that area… Read More ›
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Little Fury Things
At the right angle with the morning sun coming through the Tiffany lampshade looked furry due to a thin layer of animal hair attached to the glass by grease or film. You could say the same for most appliances in… Read More ›
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Ancient flags and dragons
8/9/25 The sound of the owl in the middle of the night is a distant probe, a pulse. In the east on the bottom of the horizon there are two new stars, maybe a planet. The sun rises closer to… Read More ›
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Grounded
It is now the time of the wildfires and web worms. The digital map of fire shows their size and location, and we look surrounded—though the air quality is still good. The web worms gather in clumps on certain kinds… Read More ›
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The last time you tried to quit
You will go much further than you ever thought before you stop. You will even think I should quit, and yet you will keep going. You will do it time and again, and then you will say enough, you’ll stop… Read More ›
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The dark magic of the garage
The garage was fucked. The garage, that dumping ground for all our excess, for all we could not process or endure. The garage was the physical manifestation of our gluttony and waste. The garage was bombastic in scale: a proud… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 