Bill Pearse

Recent Posts - page 46

• Look out the window

  By Bill Pearse on June 18, 2021 • ( 15 )

  

  I’m not really here right now, but I wanted to be so I could maintain a 30-day streak and I’m getting close. Sharing an interview I did in 2017 with one of the writers I follow who’s taught me some… Read More ›

• The human race is run

  By Bill Pearse on June 17, 2021 • ( 12 )

  

  Outside the hose is coiled, the drain rock undisturbed, the lamb’s ear grown an inch overnight. It’s the time of day all the conference rooms are taken by the clatter of birds kicking up sparks. Dew on the grass turning… Read More ›

• Two sides of the same coin

  By Bill Pearse on June 16, 2021 • ( 12 )

  

  He could be like a murder victim on his side, the way he sleeps. The arms flailing, the legs cocked weird. Like a deer on the side of the highway. The dead are like that, caught in a sudden peace…. Read More ›

• A roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour

  By Bill Pearse on June 15, 2021 • ( 8 )

  

  It is a sleepy Sunday with the cat in the window, the clock ticking and the rain. Me smacking my lips, tonguing my teeth as a lion might a sinew. House cats are no different than their counterparts in the… Read More ›

• Magna come loudly, Bill

  By Bill Pearse on June 14, 2021 • ( 23 )

  

  I guess the window on William closed a long time ago, I’ve just gone by Bill. Been called Billy, but only to distinguish myself from the other Bills. A littler Bill, that Billy: a smaller version of his dad. Though… Read More ›

• Physical education

  By Bill Pearse on June 13, 2021 • ( 24 )

  

  In grade school PE we were forced to do chin-ups in front of the rest of the class and some boys could barely do one, and were laughed at and teased, called pussies and worse. But there were others, quiet… Read More ›

• The passing through

  By Bill Pearse on June 12, 2021 • ( 4 )

  

  Poem you come out unformed as me, with no bones you plop onto the ground eyeless and bare, hardly alive. And what is form, but a language others assign to us for filing purposes? And what are we beyond our… Read More ›

• Sisyphus in the underworld of our kitchen

  By Bill Pearse on June 11, 2021 • ( 18 )

  

  It’s true, the microwave is sticky. Sticky on the insides, sticky when the door opens. And there’s hair on the kitchen cupboards, hair adhered to grease. Animal hair, but it doesn’t belong there. And mold on the insides of the… Read More ›

• What it takes to look like a poet

  By Bill Pearse on June 10, 2021 • ( 3 )

  

  There is nothing ordinary or light about you. You don’t look into the camera, you look down or sideways. You do that because the weight is too much for anyone to bear, the weight of your gaze. You know that,… Read More ›

• Postcard from the Mediterranean

  By Bill Pearse on June 9, 2021 • ( 10 )

  

  I go back to the curves of that sea along the beach, shapely as a woman’s hips. To the dark, side street bars and waving aloe stalks, the persistence of salt in the maritime air.

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