Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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The reckoning
When you find death or death finds you what is it like? Your cat on the floor, I remember that. The first time you felt something taken from you you treasured and knew from the time of its birth. Because… Read More ›
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Song for replenishment
Let us be near the water and not want for anything else In the morning when the sun lights the tops of the tall trees and they burn like a candle to the bottom Let us be near the water… Read More ›
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Old to begin
How is it I have grown old, old in the best of ways they call “aged” and priced and valued as such, and hard to find. How is it I have grown old and at the same time renewed, this… Read More ›
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When the amber alert woke us at 3:43
We thought it was nuclear war and wished we’d bought more water and planned for this but instead it was just the life of some kid we didn’t know, not our own And we went back to bed with the… Read More ›
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The drugs don’t work
At first there is not much to remember. Our phone number, which mom makes me memorize. Our address, which is where we live. Both have a rhythm that helps me retain the pattern and I can hear the numbers in… Read More ›
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The secret to our future lies
In the dark corners of the library I am looking for my past. The corners are dark because it is the early 80s and I can barely picture it now. The new library has just opened in the old part… Read More ›
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In the mouth a desert
I wonder where the phones are leading our kids, are leading all of us, what it’s done to us and if it’s too late to undo.
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Tipping up and touching down
You could think that way if you wanted to, it was a funny way to think. Like you could go back for a redo. I’d been thinking that way for a while leading up to February. It was right when… Read More ›
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You can never hold back spring
Spring came quick. One day the birds were back and it seemed like life just resumed. Like everyone had been released from a witch’s spell, that’s how it felt. He worked in the yard and dug the heels of his… Read More ›
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Then the mid-life part began
In a sense it is like I am not here. And that is the thing about parenting, perhaps the point. To be there when you’re needed and then not at all. You see it in the wild with mother whales… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 