Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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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.
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His own forever collapse
It was hard to live with an eye for detail and not crumble beneath the weight of these corrections.
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No difference on deck or overboard
How the tall trees swayed in the middle of the night in that strange pale glow not from a moon but god knows what all of us awash with a storm spitting sideways as if we were all hanging onto… Read More ›
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The rhythm of the rain
All night long the rain.
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Long dark blues
I remembered what it was like to leap out of bed with an eagerness for the day but that feeling was long gone.
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The art in the pharmacy
The art is what you can’t explain about why it made you feel the way it did.
Bill Pearse 