Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Midwinter break
Literally everyone standing in line is on their phone. It said the wait time was 85 minutes but when we got halfway through they said it would be longer, that’s all they said. And when Charlotte checked the wait time… Read More ›
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The signet pinky ring went missing
I had to let go of the ring. The ring was gone. The ring came off when I removed my work gloves, fell to the ground, a garden bed. The ring lay unnoticed for a time on its side. The… Read More ›
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Middle-age, Death is at the foot of your bed
You stand for a moment fitting your pack and wonder, is it too late for me to set out? The dream metaphor is this: I’m busy packing, gathering my things at the car. I have the lift gate open and… Read More ›
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Animal Vegetable
Was it Kafka who said that we are most human when admittedly animals? I can’t remember. The elephant would. We give each other pet names and share … Animal Vegetable
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Prompting debate
Surely there must be a scale that ranks our resistance to technology from fully resistant (1 – won’t use it) to no resistance (10 – fully embraced it). I think I’m now a “6,” techno curious.
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Orchid piece
In the dark, in the window, in its tiny pot the orchid grows. The angles and edges we hardly notice while the orchid works to inhabit its small space. And for us no different, the quiet stirrings, the browned leaves,… Read More ›
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Cordless
The bright red Mickey Mouse socks my kids gave me before the pandemic were now going pink and faded with holes opening at the heels. These socks, like so many things in my life, held small resonance. They meant something… Read More ›
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Through the gap in Shakespeare’s garden
A woodsy scent of burning cedar and spice. The languid winter hours spent by the window with the lull of rain thumbing the gutters and panes. “Through the gap in Shakespeare’s garden,” that’s the phrase I borrowed from the guy… Read More ›
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Farmers’ almanac
I read the weather forecast and despite the gloom, felt good about living in the Pacific Northwest again. The mild winters, the sing-song pattern to the forecasts: rain changing to showers, showers changing to rain. Heavy rain tapering off before… Read More ›
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In the days of auld lang syne
I didn’t even look through it before throwing the calendar away. I used to page through them for kicks, to see what I’d written and reflect on how far I’d come. My grandmother made a practice of writing a short… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 