Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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Right before the storm the sky turned a queer pink
The wind came on hard so of course I had to go out in it: why does being out in extreme weather make us feel so alive (because at any moment it feels we may not be)? Is it really… Read More ›
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Poem for the first sunny day in Seattle
How the underside of the crow’s wings glowed when it was dusk and the light dropped so slow from the sky a two-hour cue and the spaces between the leaves went from peach to pink, and all about, a tapestry… Read More ›
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Sketch of a Volvo 740 taken from driveway
It took long enough, but it finally hit 70 in Seattle. In the morning driving in how the mist clung to the trees, and it was Double Stamp Wednesday at the coffee shop, and when I left work about noon… Read More ›
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Now my heart is full
Perhaps our hearts are different sizes like cups made by joining palms, closing seams— we don’t know their size until they’re empty or full and even then, it’s unclear: their only job is to hold, a place to store things… Read More ›
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First there is a mountain then there is no mountain, then there is
There was the outfit I’d worn the day before and probably the day before that, in a pile on the floor by the bed. I sat up and got into it like I was going in reverse, stood up, slapped… Read More ›
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‘Reentry Burns,’ coming back to America
When I got back from Germany Dawn met me at the airport and we went for lunch at the brewhouse. The bathroom smelled the same as it always did and I think the bartender recognized me, even though we’d been… Read More ›
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Anthony’s Navel: Mark Paxson, growing up with Miami Vice
Happy Saturday and thanks to Mark Paxson, or King Midget, for this week’s guest post series where we’re featuring favorite songs, films and books from our past. Enjoy Mark’s piece below and follow his blog to hear more of his stories…. Read More ›
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‘The heart lies somewhere I can’t reach’
Hey! It’s almost the end of April. It has 30 days. I rarely go back to my old posts or reblog them but this week is special, because it marks the anniversary we moved back to the States after nine… Read More ›
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‘Here always is,’ on parenting
And there was the time I got arrested for furnishing alcohol to minors and underaged drinking—and you wouldn’t think you could be guilty of both, but that’s the law. The night I called my parents late from Erie, PA (from… Read More ›
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Fallen, moss-covered tree in the aspect of a dog
There was nothing more of it left at the end, the day got sanded down to a pile of dust smaller than the shape it started. The dishwasher ran and the rain looked to stop for a minute, but only… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 