Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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This life is a book I don’t want to finish
It’s a game where there is no winning, only the joy in the odd and unexplained.
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5th and Hamilton
Maybe the art was in the refashioning of otherwise useless things.
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At first, and then
That was the first time I realized that just because you put something in print doesn’t make it any better than it was from the start.
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The strength of strings
I started to learn that to write is to live, and you can’t do much of the former without the latter.
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Quiet choir for midwinter mornings
The end of the world or start of a weekend when everyone’s away.
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Gig work and trapeze artists
It can be scary for a contractor without the promise of work lined up after you end a gig, like a trapeze artist letting go of one swing and reaching out for the next.
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Song for early morning meditation
Early morning walks from the cottage in January as the light is coming on earlier day by day.
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Any day a holiday
Knowing we had it good then but not realizing how much.
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Impromptu streams
Who gets a day with nothing to do? What time is this?
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Nowhere else to be
Days the world just settles in around you.
Bill Pearse 