Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Down the end of Clay Pit road
Matted down forest floor, now the leaves have lost their shape and rotting with the rest, the color wicked out no longer distinct, not worth saving in a book. Gray light in the forest, the branches the color of bone,… Read More ›
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The meaning of the word Enthusiasm
In 1993 I made a mix tape called Enthusiasm. It was the Word of the Day that day, one of my favorites. I learned its origin was Greek, you could tell by the way it ended, like Orgasm or Prism…. Read More ›
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Falling asleep with the candles on
Back in Germany, Eberhard was like a floor warden in his vest he was so anal about my mom burning candles in the house. The place is 500 years old and all wood, there is that, and because it gets… Read More ›
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Rain prose, the election
When I got up it was dark and raining. I went outside to clean up dog poop because I needed something to do. The DJ was playing all songs about the election, and it seemed like every word meant something… Read More ›
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Fight Harder
Originally posted on The Green Study:
At midnight, I woke up and checked the election results and began to cry. My first thought was about the conversation I’d have to have with my daughter in the morning. She stood by… -
New luck toy
When Dawn used to go out of town the kids would get into bed with me and we’d watch Shaun the Sheep, about as much maternal comfort as I could offer, a warm body and a laptop. Dawn left for… Read More ›
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The must of memories trapped in jackets
The smell of the book is the same as memories musty, vague— its only distinction is in itself how it sits there unattended: different memories, different books, all smell the same.
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We turned back
It was so dark this morning the sun didn’t come up until 8 and when it did no one noticed, the rain came back. Even the bistro lights were confused (they’re on a timer), they came on thinking it was… Read More ›
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Dog ghost prose, one Friday
There was a study they did on foxes, on domesticating them. They set up shop near a den and began luring the foxes closer with treats and talking to them sweet. Of course the foxes liked it and started sticking… Read More ›
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The unknowingness: too many reflections, too much time reflecting
I spent almost two years out of work which was good, but a bit too long. It felt like oversleeping, a self-induced fog. And because I’m a project manager and have to organize things, I think my time out of… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 