Bill Pearse

Recent Posts - page 102

• Now my heart is full

  By Bill Pearse on May 2, 2017 • ( 0 )

  

  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 ›

• First there is a mountain then there is no mountain, then there is

  By Bill Pearse on May 1, 2017 • ( 23 )

  

  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 ›

• ‘Reentry Burns,’ coming back to America

  By Bill Pearse on April 30, 2017 • ( 12 )

  

  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 ›

• Anthony’s Navel: Mark Paxson, growing up with Miami Vice

  By Bill Pearse on April 29, 2017 • ( 7 )

  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 ›

• ‘The heart lies somewhere I can’t reach’

  By Bill Pearse on April 28, 2017 • ( 4 )

  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 ›

• ‘Here always is,’ on parenting

  By Bill Pearse on April 27, 2017 • ( 17 )

  

  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 ›

• Fallen, moss-covered tree in the aspect of a dog

  By Bill Pearse on April 26, 2017 • ( 8 )

  

  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 ›

• Fireflies trapped in a jar, the days, prose

  By Bill Pearse on April 25, 2017 • ( 5 )

  Some of the days flew by so fast, others you could trap in a jar. They were on the internet or in your computer on a spinning carousel, going back as far as you could right up to the present…. Read More ›

• Bluetooth speaker inside rusted copper resonating bowl

  By Bill Pearse on April 24, 2017 • ( 17 )

  

  Lily and I moved to opposite corners of the hot tub. Because it’s outside and we live in the Pacific Northwest, the underside of the cover attracts slugs and undesirable life. I’ve started using bromine tabs indiscriminately, I just dump… Read More ›

• Do enough drugs and the trees will talk back

  By Bill Pearse on April 23, 2017 • ( 26 )

  

  I don’t know why I have to drink beer when I brown beef but I just do. Maybe so I’m doing something other than drinking. I went back to my notes from Friday morning on Cougar Mountain with the dog,… Read More ›

• ‹ Older Entries
• Newer Entries ›