Author Archives

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

• Hold me put, here

  By Bill Pearse on March 20, 2015 • ( 15 )

  

  It’s either a dead worm or part of a banana adhered to the grout in the kitchen tile; it’s gotten that bad, the house. Shrew-killing season in full swing for the cats and some, catch and release style. The cats… Read More ›

• Drunks are like fruit trees

  By Bill Pearse on March 19, 2015 • ( 26 )

  

  I changed my pants today, which is notable because I took a vow to keep wearing the corduroys until I got the garage done, and that was a week ago last Tuesday. Yesterday, I found a draft of a story… Read More ›

• What we keep, who we are

  By Bill Pearse on March 12, 2015 • ( 40 )

  

  I’ve broken through a membrane in our garage, the garage that’s bigger than some apartments I’ve lived in, where our kids can ride their bikes or scooters when there’s no cars and I’ve cleared the boxes to the side. The garage,… Read More ›

• When the skin once so taut loses shape

  By Bill Pearse on March 10, 2015 • ( 11 )

  

  I got to the intersection and wasn’t sure which way to go. When there’s nowhere to go and you can go anywhere, it’s like spinning a Roulette wheel, deciding which way to go. I took the same, windy road that day I… Read More ›

• Release Your Inner Artist

  By Bill Pearse on March 9, 2015 • ( 1 )

  

  Originally posted on Tish Farrell:
  We are each of us born brimming with potential, creators in the making. But then something happens – at least for most of us it does. Somewhere between the childhood dreaming, and the adolescent wake-up…

• Moon song for März

  By Bill Pearse on March 5, 2015 • ( 16 )

  The moon is yellow and full and low in the sky and the sky no longer drops now, it’s a slow fade to dusk. I walk the lake road and a car comes round the bend and with the swoosh… Read More ›

• Guest Post: Top 3 records of 2015 so far

  By Bill Pearse on March 4, 2015 • ( 14 )

  I am still working through music my dear friend Anthony has shared with me over the past 10 years — I think I asked him to stop in 2008, so I could catch up. This week, I asked Anthony if… Read More ›

• Climbing cocks, steep peaks, dry tools (2)

  By Bill Pearse on March 3, 2015 • ( 8 )

  Brad and I camp in the snow by an abandoned hunter’s cabin up Black Canyon with my dog Ginger, who puts her nose in Brad’s eye and causes it to swell up like a walnut because Brad’s convinced there’s foreign… Read More ›

• My empire of dirt: Cash, R.I.P.

  By Bill Pearse on February 26, 2015 • ( 20 )

  The day Johnny Cash died was a Friday and I woke the same as any day at 6 AM to the local radio station, and lay there in bed for one, two, then three songs before I realized something was… Read More ›

• Just for us

  By Bill Pearse on February 25, 2015 • ( 18 )

  

  The moon is hanging on by a nail and we are all bound to fall that way too, to rise in the morning and repeat the same cycle: to expand and recede, sometimes close to Earth, sometimes obscured. They make… Read More ›