Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Take a look at my life, I’m a lot like you
I’ve been practicing what it feels like to be an old man for years now. An old man with all the good parts, none of the bad. The pace that is measured, unrushed. Days that spill out like a cracked… Read More ›
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As the yard began to brown
Green is the color of life, and for today I am wrapped in a quilt of it on grass and fern and hanging tree boughs. Brown comes next, it is already on the edges of the sword fern, the cedars,… Read More ›
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Beach sequence
There is just time. And they say it doesn’t even exist but we don’t have another word for it so we just call it time. How much we have while we sit here and wait. On a beach this morning,… Read More ›
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Get rid of unwanted back hair
We forget how good we have it, we read books about the apocalypse for entertainment. We get a taste of that and the first thing we do is run for the toilet paper. We’re like domesticated dogs, we wouldn’t last long in the wild.
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The way it ends
it’s hard to fathom all the words in the English language that must end with the letter m, or why anyone would think to put that in a poem. Thanks everyone for playing along on my 30-day posting streak!
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Song for Lily and Charlotte
There is no time like the present but no present like ice cream on a summer afternoon with you beside me in the car and you in the back seat well before the days of work life and strife, when… Read More ›
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What will and will not last
Well the dog is on her last leg, my mom, her last refrigerator. That elderly couple I climbed with in the Alps: the tread is shot on their boots but what’s the sense in getting another pair, they laughed. Me,… Read More ›
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Desert island selection
It was nearly impossible to love our house as much as it needed to be loved. I’d sit in the backyard and pretend I was at a resort the way the tall trees looked, the angle of the moon coming… Read More ›
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Palace of the brine
I was wet from the ocean spray when I woke, with eagles up above. The tide looked low and the beach opened up. Fallen trees off the bluffs made it feel like we were at the edge of the world.
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Field notes from the Pacific Coast
A few years ago I did a 30-day challenge to write 50K words, inspired by an outing to the Washington coast and in part, the singer Chris Cornell’s tragic death. Cornell sang for the band Soundgarden, one of the primary… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 