Canvas 379 — Visitor
Awakened from a dream by the wind — did he find me, or did I find him? March 30, 2020 [ 710 ]
Archive for April 2020
The Books by My Bed
This is a very old poem, from a lost, undated manuscript, which was later typed on my old Royal and also lost, or likely discarded. Earlier today I found I’d included it in an entry of One Hand Clapping, the lines divided by slashes. It’s a curiosity at best. As no other record exists, I’ll file it here for gentle guests and future laughs. March 29, 2020 The Books […]
Written
Well done . . . each word in place . . . but do not think . . . you hide your face . . . March 28, 2020 [ 708 ]
After You
My friend, if you can’t find the good news, be the good news. “Medium” Recently Banned Literature, March 8, 2017 After You You birds at the feeder, heedless of fate — Believe me, I share the same faith, And as long as you preach thus, I’m willing to wait. [ 707 ]
This and a Little Bit Less
Thoreau’s journal entry for July 13, 1852, begins with this one-thought paragraph: A journal, a book that shall contain a record of all your joy, your ecstasy. I found it waiting for me this morning when I opened the book to pick up from where I had left off reading yesterday. Upon reading it, I realized it had waited almost one hundred sixty-eight years. I closed the book. One relishes […]
Blind Fishermen
Early morning. Fresh air, dark clouds, robin-song. And I ask myself — In this paradise, if I am not ready to die, have I ever really lived? March 25, 2020 Blind Fishermen It’s been so long — I think of writing you today. Do you think of writing me? — And do you wonder what to say? So many letters set out this way — Like little rafts at […]
In the Garden
Salt on a sparrow’s tail, and a world of things unseen — Dear one — your hand — is shaking — [ 704 ]
The Wise Old Man
Autobiography is the strangest thing. It’s about everything, and nothing, and no one, and everyone, all at the same time. To be of use — is there anything more to ask? March 23, 2020 The Wise Old Man The wise old man noticed he was hungry. Then he remembered he had no food. “Ah, yes,” he said, “there is that.” A very serious-looking man entered his hut. “You owe […]
Love, Look at the Two of Us
A seed, breaking through hard ground. Human seeds, all around. What this poor poet has so long tried to say, is expressed far more eloquently by the beautiful virus in our midst. Beautiful? Yes. For this is how a mother reminds her children when they heedlessly, carelessly forget — that we — are all — connected. For this, and for all things, she has my gratitude. Seen by my wife […]
Bring the Blossom
The doves were here again today. They have visited the fig tree about five times now. And the cherry trees have started to snow. Their petals are like pages, where poetry goes. March 21, 2020. Afternoon. Bring the Blossom As a child knows to scratch the ground just where the earth most needs it, love brings the blossom down to please it — love, bring the blossom, my vow […]
William Michaelian 