Bill Pearse

Recent Posts - page 79

• One commitment (for August)

  By Bill Pearse on August 1, 2018 • ( 14 )

  In the morning before the sun is up, when the cloud deck makes the light go soft and pale, the grass is the color of straw dried-out and sharp, golden red. The lawn sprinklers wake spitting and cussing, and the… Read More ›

• A jarful of days

  By Bill Pearse on July 30, 2018 • ( 9 )

  In the corner of my yard in the mid-afternoon heat in my hammock with Pablo Neruda between my legs, my glasses off, bare-chested and unbathed, I think about death: my body a lump in a sack swinging here: all this,… Read More ›

• Fred and Ted go camping

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

  

  We went back up the Teanaway, the river valley on the east side of the Cascades that’s one of our favorite camping spots but prone to wildfires this time of year: an 18 mile road with only one way in… Read More ›

• The life of a dog

  By Bill Pearse on July 27, 2018 • ( 19 )

  The sunset was now 8:51, sunrise 5:39. A thick layer of marine clouds on my morning walk to the lake, suggestion of fall by the gray color tones and ripples around the shore. Leaves starting to fall like a bunch… Read More ›

• An examination of spirit and self, told from beneath a sheet

  By Bill Pearse on July 16, 2018 • ( 34 )

  

  When Dawn leaves town, Charlotte sleeps with me in our bed. Friday night, and she complained about the Brian Eno music, calling it spooky. So I carried the remains of that record with me up Cougar Mountain the next morning,… Read More ›

• Going back to Lehigh Street

  By Bill Pearse on July 12, 2018 • ( 24 )

  The fins on the air conditioning units were cold and bent in places and dripped on the pavement. I noticed that, and the texture of mortar between the red brick on each of the apartment units, the red berries on… Read More ›

• The day the rain stopped

  By Bill Pearse on July 10, 2018 • ( 21 )

  The last rain fell on July 10. They were saying that was it, it would be a long time before it came back. When the rain ends in Seattle it’s like time stops—and when it returns it’s like an old… Read More ›

• Decorative chains, lucky charms, symbols in garbage pails

  By Bill Pearse on July 9, 2018 • ( 25 )

  In the morning it looked like it had rained over night, and the mountains were socked in with clouds. I took a last walk to the river but there wasn’t much to see, and the dog wasn’t out. The dog… Read More ›

• Is, does, can, could: resolutions, one July

  By Bill Pearse on July 1, 2018 • ( 23 )

  It’s gotten so that I can’t leave the windows open at night or it will get too cold. This morning it was 60 in the house and Dawn was in her sweater, cranky, like it was my fault. She’s at… Read More ›

• ‘Undead’

  By Bill Pearse on June 26, 2018 • ( 19 )

  On the first day of summer I took my morning walk beneath a marine layer of clouds. The cool onshore flow was back, making the trees swish. The blackberry vines were starting to bud out with their green, knobby fists… Read More ›

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