William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose.
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Recent Posts
- Wednesday’s twilight anthem September 21, 2017
- Then the rain came September 20, 2017
- Anthony’s Navel: Chauncy Gardiner on The Fountainhead September 19, 2017
- They know it’s time to go September 17, 2017
- ‘Essence of Cessna’ | on success September 13, 2017
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People’s Poet
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Lost in the clouds
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Category Archives: prose
Wednesday’s twilight anthem
The Jupiter’s Beard is fanned-out pornographic in our front yard, exposed to the root. And the grass is so dead, it’s what Gregg Allman’s beard must have looked like before he died, the same gold-straw color, drawn out thick. It’s … Continue reading
Posted in Memoir, musings, prose, travel
Tagged Gregg Allman, Maxfield Parrish, Memoir, mid-life crisis, pacific northwest, prose, Scotland, sense imagery, travel, William Pearse writer, writing
19 Comments
Song for mid-summer fires
In the morning the street lamps are still on past 6 with their long, dinosaur necks and pink/peach, lit-up heads. I set my alarm for 3 AM but got up before it went off, sailed past Tacoma and Olympia around … Continue reading
Bikes, trailers, dogs, coolers: five days in Montana (some Wyoming)
Just like me, the moon’s gone plump from too many long nights and early mornings, hard to get into its jeans, and only noticed by fools and dreamers, the mad. The sky ran down from blue to pink to jack … Continue reading
Posted in prose, travel
Tagged humor, Montana, parenting, prose, road trip, stream-of-consciousness, wildfires, William Pearse writer
17 Comments
First light for August
The plane resembled a bird in the sky, reflecting back in the lake. There were a few on the dock fishing, spread out to give each other space. They were all having their moments with the lake, the morning light. … Continue reading
One window ajar, first light on Pine Lake
I sat outside under a tree with King Tubby playing on my Bluetooth speakers and crocosmia fronds tickling the air, the moon a half melon, the whites of my nails. Talked to my dad across the country, the sound of … Continue reading
Posted in musings, parenting, prose
Tagged family, Father and Son, father identity, humor, identity, King Tubby, Memoir, mid-life crisis, pacific northwest, parenting, Patti Smith, prose, stream-of-consciousness, summer, travel, William Pearse writer
9 Comments
Straw-colored grass, a bed of needles
The owl-eyed veterinarian talks too fast, wears her hair in a bun. The bun’s so tight it makes her eyes bulge. It’s always the same, we care about our dog and cat’s health, we start with good intentions. But her … Continue reading
Posted in musings, prose
Tagged cats, humor, Maxfield Parrish, prose, suburbs, summer grilling, William Pearse writer
29 Comments
Falling down days, deep July
A stark, backcountry walk along the roads of Grand Mound, Washington outside Centralia: its claim to fame the halfway point between Seattle and Portland. Across the road from the Great Wolf Lodge resort, a +21 legal weed pop-up called King … Continue reading
Posted in musings, parenting, prose
Tagged Great Wolf Lodge, humor, identity, mid-life crisis, pacific northwest, parenting, small town America, stream-of-consciousness, summer
37 Comments
