William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Smoke in the Canyon

How proud we are of the useless nonsense recorded in our brains — jingles, slogans, brands, styles, and trivia of every kind — none of which truly enriches our lives or helps us survive. That these things have replaced a dependable catalog of natural wonders, such as bird song, the habits of insects, and the subtle changes in our environment and signs in the weather, is a sad commentary on our times. Unaware of our natural surroundings, we have become strangers in our own bodies; we destroy that which sustains us; we are no longer physically or mentally fit to adapt.

Back to the falls. Some smoke in the canyon. The water running low, so low we are able to walk on the dry sculpted rock in the stream bed to within one hundred feet of the brink of North Falls.

September 3, 2021. Late afternoon.


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Categories: New Poems & Pieces

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