Bill Pearse

Recent Posts - page 77

• Rainer Maria Rilke made me write this

  By Bill Pearse on September 8, 2018 • ( 10 )

  The afternoon sky looks pregnant but it’s too early to tell. And the tall trees reach to tickle its belly with stick fingers drawn by a kid. The dishwasher and drier are running, and there’s a pot on the stove… Read More ›

• My name is Bill

  By Bill Pearse on September 6, 2018 • ( 18 )

  I tried to step outside of my name, to look at it objectively. It was a plain name, handed down from my dad—and to him, from his father. It was like all the other things that get handed down, the… Read More ›

• Near to fall

  By Bill Pearse on September 5, 2018 • ( 22 )

  

  And so at last it was done, the book of poems I spent all summer with it seemed. They weren’t my poems, but became mine more and more each day. I sat on a chair in the grass and put… Read More ›

• Gone are the 8 o’clock sunsets

  By Bill Pearse on August 29, 2018 • ( 18 )

  

  How much was left undone by summer’s end, in the corner of our back yard by the maple tree. The work was coming in again, with everyone coming back from vacations and wanting their things fast-tracked, rush jobs. Learning all… Read More ›

• Catching up with Pablo

  By Bill Pearse on August 27, 2018 • ( 13 )

  At the end of a long day I cleaned myself in the back yard with Pablo Neruda, setting him down on my stomach, rubbing my eyes the way you would a catcher’s mitt, breaking it in. And I remembered a… Read More ›

• That last Sunday in Prague

  By Bill Pearse on August 26, 2018 • ( 14 )

  

  Brad said he was getting up at 5 to photograph the Charles Bridge. That time of day, it’s only the serious photographers out and the drunks. He described scenes of people on their sides getting sick, some passed out, unclear… Read More ›

• Song for late summer’s sorrow

  By Bill Pearse on August 25, 2018 • ( 6 )

  

  When the sun came out it hardly mattered with the wildfire smoke and clouds and cloying mood that comes from late summer days you’ve seen enough of: No, the sun was going under, swallowed and swollen, buried by messy, careless… Read More ›

• Walking down the unlit hallway of life

  By Bill Pearse on August 22, 2018 • ( 24 )

  

  Outside in the mid-afternoon there was just the sound of birds and kids and cars going by. It was too hot for anything, everyone hanging onto the edges by the shade. I’d gotten up when the church bells struck six… Read More ›

• In the Alps with Eberhard | Size Really Does Matter

  By Bill Pearse on August 17, 2018 • ( 31 )

  

  We went back to the Austrian Alps and it was the same as it was last time, ending our hike on an old chair lift, coming down the valley with the sound of cowbells and accordion music drifting up, back… Read More ›

• Dream of forgetfulness in the wake of night

  By Bill Pearse on August 11, 2018 • ( 6 )

  In the papery pre-light of dawn my wings like a honey bee’s begin to break down my body a weight I can’t let go, these words are the weights when they hang here, unsaid.

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