William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings


A winter afternoon spent trying this word and that word and erasing them both, until the room I am in is given to darkness — even death agrees — if not with the method, then at least with the progress.


Suddenly a ripe plum

and how her sweet flesh aches in the mouth

in memory of melted snow

running down

a country


[ 587 ]

Categories: New Poems & Pieces

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,