Another small collection of very short, related poems, The Poem I Wrote Is Glad It Missed the Train is a quiet mix of autobiography and family history. In the introduction, I say that each word is a kind of love letter, and I hold by that description. Certainly, each poem is. As brief as the they are, each contains much more than meets the eye, incorporating personal philosophy and nature in a way that shines light on no fewer than ten family members and neighbors. This is a lot to accomplish in so few words, but that was the groove I was in, as the date following each poem will attest. It was quiet. It was winter. My mother was asleep in the next room, and I could never be sure of her waking.
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[ 1994 ]
Categories: Annotations and Elucidations
Tags: Autobiography, Family History, Love Letters, Memory, My Mother, Poems, Winter, Words
William Michaelian 