Bill Pearse

Recent Posts - page 76

• Down the hill, from green to black

  By Bill Pearse on October 4, 2018 • ( 12 )

  I got the ax out of the chicken coop to split the wood for the first autumn fire. Without ceremony, I hung the lawn chairs in the garage for the season and put away the hammock and lawn furniture. A… Read More ›

• ‘Cuts you up’

  By Bill Pearse on October 2, 2018 • ( 24 )

  Lily (who now goes by Lee) and I drove to the Teanaway river valley on the east side of the Cascades, stopping at a Safeway in the small town of Cle Elum for junk food. I didn’t bring the guts… Read More ›

• Top down

  By Bill Pearse on September 26, 2018 • ( 7 )

  On the first foggy morning of late September the daylight cut itself in half and the moon looked full as we drove home from our birthday celebration for Charlotte. We climbed the steps to bed, the three of us (Dawn… Read More ›

• Song to the dark lands

  By Bill Pearse on September 22, 2018 • ( 19 )

  When I look through the trees at the park near our house they are all pretty much the same as when we started coming here—like me, a bit older but still the same, mostly unnoticed. And the kids were so… Read More ›

• The soul dies first

  By Bill Pearse on September 20, 2018 • ( 15 )

  At the end of it, the wick is either cut too short or it’s so long, it falls on its side and can’t stand up, won’t light. And so much wax left, in the shape of what remains. This body… Read More ›

• Twilight September

  By Bill Pearse on September 19, 2018 • ( 15 )

  In the late afternoon shadows, by the underlit leaves, near a tree bent by the weight of its own fruit…in the breeze between summer and fall: there, in the crook of a bush by a rock I spied a colored… Read More ›

• Song from a shell

  By Bill Pearse on September 18, 2018 • ( 4 )

  In the icy depths of sleep, in dreams, you held me when I was no one, just myself, a shell You held me at the edges where I could have been anyone, but wasn’t— and in sleep, in dreams, is… Read More ›

• The flavor is in the blood

  By Bill Pearse on September 16, 2018 • ( 43 )

  

  Any cook will tell you, when you brown meat and rest it on the plate, blood will accumulate there and you always use that blood, or whatever juice comes out, when you put it in the pot. I sat in… Read More ›

• Red wine and rain (repeat 3x, fast)

  By Bill Pearse on September 13, 2018 • ( 18 )

  Down came the rain like a permanent marker. The permanence of fall, of nature, of flame. And the gutters gasped, and the rain slapped until it made sparks when it hit. And down the panes like a waterfall, the cadence… Read More ›

• ‘slowdive’

  By Bill Pearse on September 11, 2018 • ( 21 )

  It is the time of moody records and blankets, and nearly the time of candles. Though there’s late afternoon sun it doesn’t have the same warmth and it’s wet, the ground smells, the earth sighs: and we are all holding… Read More ›

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