Story #6, Among the Living and Other Stories, 2000 Appeared previously in The Rockford Review. The longer I live, the less I know. The less I understand. What makes people tick? What makes them tock? “We have ways of making you tock.” Isn’t that the punch line of an old joke? A prisoner of war is sitting in a cell. Every second or so, he tilts his head mechanically […]
Sometimes, if it’s read slowly enough and with love, even a poem that’s deeply flawed, such as this one, seems not so flawed after all. And when we think of people as poems, and approach them in the same way, it’s positively medicinal. One Sunday in October Just enough rain to sprout mushrooms, then wave upon wave of mold. Un cuervo, mi mente, un matorral. How a boy in […]
An exchange of letters, perhaps? Postcards? Wishes? Dreams? Or what shall it be? Autumn leaves? Between Us Walking in the mist reminds me that wherever I go my face arrives before me, so that when we meet again, love, my secrets will all have been revealed. . . . . And then will I be healed . . . [ 151 ]
Story #4, Among the Living and Other Stories, 2000 Until last week, when things were finally settled, I spent all of my spare time riding in the elevator at the Sage-O’Brien Building. Twenty-seven floors, long halls, bad paintings, short, generic carpet, hundreds of offices, doors closed, documents, filing cabinets, cubicles, shoulder-high partitions, stacking desk trays, bulletin boards, pagers, call-waiting, voice mail, e-mail, www-dot-giveusyourmoney-dot-com, the smell of perfume, the smell […]
As always at this early hour, I’m drinking coffee. I love coffee. I’ve loved it since childhood, when the aroma of it perking would invade my bedroom. Yes, I had a bed, and a room. I still marvel at it. At night, the sliding closet door, painted the same color as the walls, had to be closed. If it was open, the things hanging in the closet came to life […]
Story #3, Among the Living and Other Stories, 2000 Every day, I eat dinner at four. I have a broiled steak, with or without potato, with or without rice, with or without salad. Sometimes, when I’m feeling good and hungry, I have all at the same meal — steak, potato, rice, and salad. And wine: one bottle per meal. The wine, which must be very dry, helps me digest […]
As much as I like and am willing to live with the bits and pieces I’ve chosen thus far to preserve, it’s important to remember, for me, at least, that there are great swathes of writing and piles of drawings that clearly should not, and will not, see the light of day. I don’t mean to say it’s all junk. There are bright moments, mingled with poignant, self-defeating hints of […]
Story #1, Among the Living and Other Stories, 2000 Appeared previously in Armenian translation in Grakan Tert, a periodical newspaper publication of the Writers Union of Armenia. One thing that bugs me is that at the end of the day, they go home and I stay here. I’m not saying it should be the other way around. I know I’m not ready to leave. In fact, the thought scares […]
Around twenty years ago, I wrote some short stories, which, from this grizzled, objective distance, I can safely admire for their humor, truth, poetry, and vigor. Eight are included in my 2000 chapbook collection, Among the Living and Other Stories, which was succinctly described by its publisher as, “Eight crooked short stories of serious alienation.” There’s a tremendous amount of wordplay in that little book of awkward, unhappy, or otherwise […]
This poem is from Volume 3 of Songs and Letters and was written in 2005. There are twenty-four volumes in all. Back then, I did my writing at an old kitchen table from my childhood home. Our youngest son has it now. Since 2009, I’ve been using my mother’s old desk. If I remember correctly, she bought it from a retired school teacher who lived in the next town, about […]
William Michaelian 