Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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The Notes Between The Keys
I spent the last year here rebuilding my confidence as a writer, forcing myself to see my life as noteworthy every day, gathering inspiration. I didn’t know what I was doing, and half-hoped the sheer pursuit of a Broken Down… Read More ›
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Climbing cocks, steep peaks, dry tools
When I look deep inside myself to remember why I joined the Mountaineers climbing club, the only reason I can come up with is that I’m cocky. It may be a male-thing, too. I had already climbed Mount Rainier, which… Read More ›
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Trying on masks (2)
This is the second in a series of posts where you can’t trust the narrator and the narrator’s not me, inspired by a T.C. Boyle short story. The night fell and so did the frogs and the crows, they all… Read More ›
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Heads buried in books, Powell’s, Portland
We pass Powell’s bookstore in Portland, which says it’s the largest independent bookstore in the world and sure feels that way. Even though it’s a sunny afternoon in January all the seats are full of people not with tablets or… Read More ›
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Running the days out like tap water
I think about Charlotte coming down the steps in the morning, her hair a bird’s nest, the pitter-patter of bare feet across the floor. When it was especially hard early on in parenting, Dawn reminded me it wouldn’t always be… Read More ›
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Retreat, to the dark
The backbone of a cottonwood on the clouds, a fossil through my window — The nail of the moon, cupping the weight of the sky, low-lidded demon, jeweled crown. Hands sticking out of trees, green hands and fingers, quiet hillsides… Read More ›
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Corpse Pose (On Creation)
The Barbie dolls are on their backs, arms in supplication, dead bugs frozen in the position of a child’s imagination before it moves on to something else. Me and the dolls and our glassy eyes, plastic smiles, a battlefield of… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 