Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Dark enough
At last all the leaves were down. I used the tractor to grind them to bits and the blower to scatter the remains. In no time I’d been to Portland and back to the dark of my morning den. The… Read More ›
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One chance
A bit of a brute, he was often found in the kitchen with his shirt off cooking, peeing in the garden beds or brooding by himself in the early morning dark. Sometimes he smelled. He was a hard man, but… Read More ›
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Field recordings, Portland
I went back to Portland to see my childhood friend Loren for the night. Arrived early and left 24 hours later. We took our familiar walks and ended things where we started, at his local coffee shop, Keeper. In the… Read More ›
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Waning crescent
Made plans to drive to Portland for the weekend and see my childhood friend for a night. Woke at 0330 too excited to sleep and used my phone light to pack an overnight bag: just my toothbrush and night guard,… Read More ›
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Salad days
I remember leaving that apartment on Spring Street. It was the first place I lived alone after breaking up with my girlfriend. Spring is one over from Union on the edge of Seattle’s Capitol Hill, inside the Central District. Not… Read More ›
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Walter Mitty, Walter White
Can a person die from too much Kringle? I have tried. And why does it all come from Racine, Wisconsin? Why not Denmark? Do Danes in Wisconsin have the actual recipe? This pillowy danish with crack cocaine icing and nuts… Read More ›
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Song for the dawn
I loved the look of the dawn in the mountains when camping, a long band of pale light along the horizon pushing up against the dark and gloom. It was uplifting to see how the light could dispel the dark… Read More ›
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The sun is the same in a relative way
Not needing to go to school on a Thursday in late November was nice. I remember standing outside the car in the early afternoon noting the sky, the dull lead color but the light no less, heading to my grandparents… Read More ›
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Renewal
I went to our local Indian bazaar for fresh curry leaves and bought what I thought was spinach but when I looked at my receipt it said pulsaag, an Indian spinach alternative also known as basella, a climbing vine. I… Read More ›
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Sad Classical
For as much as I liked walking in the dark it was much better in the pre-dawn, more color in the sky. Nobody out on a Saturday but me and the rabbits. More reason for the owls hooting I guess…. Read More ›
Bill Pearse 