William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

The Fall of the Ten Thousand

Imagine living in a society that values business and entertainment more than it does the health, safety, education, and welfare of all of its members. Imagine living in a society that despoils the environment in favor of comfort and monetary gain, while shunning the sciences, the humanities, and the arts. Imagine a society that glorifies violence and war, and regards people of different backgrounds and customs as evil or unclean. […]

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And This

The iris bed is ready for winter. The sleepers are settling in, some with space between them, others in full embrace, with backs and shoulders turned to the soft fall sunlight. None, apparently, are concerned about the presence of the two tiny oak seedlings that sprouted earlier in the year, not even those that are two or three inches away. And anyway, that’s just a human measurement; irises and oaks […]

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This Body Is My Face

Fascinating are the little disturbances and imbalances that visit the body, as it reacts to the various impurities in its immediate environment, water-borne, air-borne, food-borne, human-borne — not even impurities, necessarily, but concentrations of different allergens, spores, molds, and the like. And to this list one would hasten to add words, thoughts, and images, all of which can be either toxic or beneficial. As rugged as it is, the body, […]

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A Threat to Security

In this country, if one isn’t descended from the land’s indigenous people, or from those who were brought here in chains and sold into slavery, then one is an immigrant, or, as I am, the descendant of immigrants. Many, of course, are a combination of one with another, and sometimes all three. And still there is hatred, still there is prejudice. “This land is your land, this land is my […]

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Circles

There’s a circle around the waning moon, the smallest I’ve ever seen. And isn’t it interesting that upon reading the word circle, one immediately assumes and understands perfection? For a circle that isn’t perfect, isn’t a circle. We might say that something is round, but that word admits the possibility that what we’re referring to might be approximately round, as in the round river stones, which we know are not […]

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Long Gray Train (I Pay the Porter)

I woke up in the middle of the night needing a sip of water. I walked down the hall, and as I passed through the dark sitting room, a sentence sprang to mind, or the beginning of a sentence — a phrase, a breath, a sound, a combination of sounds — a powerful suggestion, insistent, dreamlike, meaningful, profound, but I didn’t have the focus to pick up a pen and […]

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Mushrooms and Mildew

Mushrooms and mildew — so much mildew, it’s possible the mushrooms have mildew. The alyssum and dahlias in the front flowerbed are white with mildew. Even the lilac has mildew. But the peppers don’t. Neither do the apricot or fig. I have mildew, but thus far it affects only the cerebrum, so I’m not worried. Such fogs we’ve been having — dense, dripping fogs, street-blackening fogs, window-streaming fogs, leaf-shimmering fogs, […]

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Why I Sing

Some of us are loved into existence. Some are hated into existence. Some are conceived as pawns in a game. Some are born of hope, or grief, others of disinterest, selfishness, ignorance, boredom. Some are born of brutal possession and unbridled lust. And yet, however it is brought about, our arrival is a living symbol which transforms and transcends its cause. And our death? Some of us are loved away, […]

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Light as Light as Light

now the speed of light is something else altogether says a voice in one universe to an ear in another as the sound shines on the face in the space in between “Now the Speed of Light” Recently Banned Literature, October 3, 2016 . Light as Light as Light little lights, glowing in the dark, yours in your dark, mine in mine, make our dark, make our light, dark in […]

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The Overcoat

Shall I insert a novel here, as Balzac might have done? Or go off on a vast historical tangent, as Hugo did in Les Misérables? I could even become repetitively religious like Tolstoy — but I should probably save that for my old age, in case I live that long. Cognac and a fine cigar, then a stroll à la Maupassant, along the boulevard, where everything is so beautiful, ironic, and […]

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