William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Archive for July 2022

Funny Little Hole

Vivid blue sky and great white clouds — not too warm for an afternoon walk, but far too bright without the shade of a wide-brimmed straw hat; temporarily blinded, though, by a stretch of new sidewalk. An impromptu soup of garlic, onion, purple kale, potato (one of which was baked yesterday, the other raw) and white kidney beans (cannellini, it says on the can); olive oil; salt; pepper; a generous […]

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Jungle Dreams

In what seemed for a time a kind of dance or wrestling match, I moved the split-leaf philodendron from its white-stained, root-bound clay pot to a much larger, lighter, clay-colored plastic pot. Unfortunately, I had to break the clay pot with a hammer in order to take out the plant — except that technically, when I was done hammering, the philodendron was already out. The operation was performed next to […]

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Peace, Death, and Other Tales

Cloudy, calm, sixty-one degrees. Twice during this morning’s run, I was met with the scent of star jasmine, and once with that of a cigarette. Then someone, perhaps unable to bear the dark and the quiet, or the idea of facing another day of meaningless, underpaid drudgery, set off a loud firework somewhere to the east. The silence, though, didn’t mind; it held the noise close until it died in […]

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Flower Child

This year on Mother’s Day, our eldest son arrived with a large hanging flower basket he bought from someone who’d set up a display on Highway 99E a little north of the town of Corvallis. He’d been hiking and running in the woods near there and was on his way home when the display caught his eye. The man had stuffed just about every plant imaginable into his baskets — […]

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A Few More Scratches

So many things live only for a day — flowers, insects, rain, and sometimes people — yet see how different, how strange the world would be without them. Love it all. Never look away. To embrace, rather than resist, the ephemeral nature of sharing one’s thoughts online. Helped, and also haunted by, mechanical memory. The neat, efficient archive (see cemetery rows, honeycomb) is for oneself, for the idle many, the […]

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