Author Archives

Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.

• The French series

  By Bill Pearse on August 2, 2015 • ( 6 )

  COLLIOURE, LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON LES BATTERIES 25TH VII 1998 Finally got rid of Sean and Seamus. Sean, my bartender friend from Six Arms but Seamus, some angry Canadian/Irish guy he picked up somewhere along the way in Europe, wears baseball caps with… Read More ›

• Lay vs. Lie

  By Bill Pearse on August 1, 2015 • ( 6 )

  BELLEVUE, WASHINGTON 20 JANUARY 2009 Dawn and I sat in the car in the Macy’s parking garage discussing what we’d do if I lost my job, decided we’d move to Germany, liked the idea so much we agreed we’d go… Read More ›

• They pulled in just behind the bridge

  By Bill Pearse on August 1, 2015 • ( 14 )

  BESIGHEIM, BADEN-WÜRTTEMBERG 1ST VIII 2015 Dawn and I lay in bed with our arms threaded through each other’s until I lost track which were mine and which were hers, but I could tell she was awake despite the time, so we… Read More ›

• Closure, cynosure

  By Bill Pearse on July 29, 2015 • ( 22 )

  SAMMAMISH, WA 29th VII 2015 Climbed the dead end road Beth lives on barefoot with a glass of wine to admire the moon. Hoped I’d see the bear that’s been shitting in her yard. Speculated all month what made the… Read More ›

• Who made the constellations

  By Bill Pearse on July 28, 2015 • ( 8 )

  The days fanned out, an ocean of stars came into view And Crow was there too, a star in each eye gave him sight — the same glow on his wings gave him flight, and though it took a million or more… Read More ›

• That was a lifetime ago in West Seattle

  By Bill Pearse on July 26, 2015 • ( 13 )

  

  The house just hugs you, Beth said about our place in West Seattle. Mike asked if they still had the speakers I left in the living room ceiling but I didn’t think to look. I parked a few spaces up,… Read More ›

• Dots on the hill

  By Bill Pearse on July 24, 2015 • ( 13 )

  

  Last Friday in the States until sometime next spring. Moon fattens to a claw. Danced the trifecta of drink starting with Tequila out of pint glasses sucked through straws, licking the sides, backcountry animal tongue. Took the morning walk to… Read More ›

• Made up dreams

  By Bill Pearse on July 23, 2015 • ( 10 )

  The plastic hummingbirds that glow at night seem a lifetime ago since I gave them to my mother-in-law and she hung them on a hook off her deck. There’s even a sense of fall in the air, that dry rattle… Read More ›

• No Christmas in Germany

  By Bill Pearse on July 21, 2015 • ( 24 )

  

  At the end of 2009 we returned from a four-month sabbatical in Germany, France, Ireland and Italy. I was eligible for another sabbatical seven years later, which would make me 46 the summer of 2017, and seemed too far away…. Read More ›

• An honest living

  By Bill Pearse on July 20, 2015 • ( 10 )

  We unroll a map of Scotland that hangs off the edges it’s so big, can’t fit on the table. Some coarse navigating between destinations, time tables, circling forests and lochs, places they make Scotch. Late October, Scotland. October leaning into… Read More ›