Author Archives

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

• Disconnect me

  By Bill Pearse on July 2, 2013 • ( 6 )

  It was just me and Dawn then, driving out to eastern Washington to a cabin north of Spokane, the one-year anniversary of 9-11. It seemed a peaceful, solemn place to observe it: removed from people, surrounded by overgrown grass fields,… Read More ›

• Bean Creek

  By Bill Pearse on July 1, 2013 • ( 4 )

  I felt under my pillow and found a piece of paper Lily put there, with a drawing of me and her, stick-figures, camping. I picked her up at the “Y” when she got off the bus Friday and we headed… Read More ›

• The weight of space in the eyes

  By Bill Pearse on June 28, 2013 • ( 0 )

  Crow wings beat hard to keep themselves up They hop, squawk, strut Never once complain. We call them death: Their eyes the color of space Cold, dark, the wisdom of the infinite confined to a frame. Maybe there’s no warmth… Read More ›

• Don’t Measure Your Love: Jason Molina is Dead

  By Bill Pearse on June 27, 2013 • ( 6 )

  Sunset and birdsong, summer, Jason Molina is dead and has been a few months. You’d pass him on the street and not know it. He tried his best, no less. I thought I could write the story of his life… Read More ›

• Your web is a trap

  By Bill Pearse on June 26, 2013 • ( 1 )

  

  I’ve compared writers to spiders before: I like that the words rhyme and they have unusual things in common. Both generally hide in the corners waiting, watching. We build fantastic traps to catch our prey, then slowly suck the life… Read More ›

• The nature of theme

  By Bill Pearse on June 25, 2013 • ( 0 )

  

  Theme doesn’t show up on your porch and knock. It appears over time as a pattern of clues emerge. That’s because the human brain thinks in metaphor, in dreams. Theme is the same fleeting figure in waking life. You can’t… Read More ›

• When I’m there I’m not

  By Bill Pearse on June 24, 2013 • ( 0 )

  

  Connecting! I’m on the text now because I got one while I sat at the restaurant across from my kids, coloring. We step outside to take it down, it’s so good. (It’s like we’re here now, but not. I can see… Read More ›

• One life lost, climbing

  By Bill Pearse on June 22, 2013 • ( 4 )

  

  If you believe we have nine lives, I’ve wasted at least one in the mountains. I’m afraid of scuba diving, bicycling, and nearly hurt myself bad playing Pickleball (a form of tennis). But I’ve climbed a few big mountains by… Read More ›

• Saved by indifference

  By Bill Pearse on June 21, 2013 • ( 3 )

  

  Call it indifference, or no expectations…you will be happy on your birthday if you accept whatever gifts appear, regardless the form they take…you will enjoy the film, the food, the wine more if you take it for what it is,… Read More ›

• Poems come like children

  By Bill Pearse on June 20, 2013 • ( 6 )

  They are small things full of wonder that take a long time to produce — They don’t act the way you expect, but may be your best expression Fragile, strong, willful, watching: Your future, your past wrapped in a wish… Read More ›