William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

How Can We Know?

The word silence isn’t silence, just as love and peace aren’t love and peace. Writing them and saying them is a little like hoping the train will come. The train might arrive. It might not. No hope can bind it. What is silence? What are love and peace? How can we know, unless we surrender ourselves? How can we know, unless we are the living embodiment of each? . [ […]

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Scratches

Sometimes I look at the last scratch and think this is no way to end, and then I scratch, and scratch, and scratch again. Sometimes I look and think this is the perfect way to end, and then I scratch, and scratch, and scratch again. Sometimes I look and I do end, only to find myself scratching again. And then I look at them. I look at them, and think […]

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