This drawing and poem came into being one year ago today. They were published separately on Recently Banned Literature, and subsequently shared on Facebook. Canvas 960 is one of my favorites. But I feel that way about a good many of my drawings, especially after I’ve forgotten them, which I almost always do, and then happen upon them again. Old friends? New? Both. All. and this is the […]
It’s been almost a month since I’ve done any drawing. Unless you count using a rake in the garden. And a rake, I find, works as well as a brush, a finger, or a pen. [ 28 ]
The trees are still bare, but their branches are a different color. The sky has changed, and although trees are not mirrors, I think they must reflect the images and light they do not absorb. Their sap, too, is rising, like blood just beneath the skin. We know, of course, that even the moon reflects the light of the sun. Rocks, soil, terrain — moonlight is sunlight, gracefully transformed. The […]
There’s a man we see looking at books in the thrift shops. He’s about our age, small, thin, and wears a wool cap in all weather, and at all times of the year. He’s thoughtful, always alone, seldom buys anything, and doesn’t stay long. Yesterday I said hello very quietly, and he replied with a kind nod, his lips forming the same word, with just enough breath behind it that […]
The flower might be a rose — let’s say it’s wild, uncultivated, madly scented, and that you’ve come upon it on a path near a river. Or it might be a prize dahlia, or a humble marigold — and suddenly you’re on your knees, sniffing the clover in your lawn — honey, you think — and in that moment you are a bee — a reasoning bee, a bee with […]
When I water our smaller, more delicate seedlings and plants, I use a child’s little blue watering can embellished with a smiling green frog. Not only does the can sprinkle well, the drops are tiny enough not to batter the plants. And inside, the water is refreshing and clean — I can see right through to the blue bottom and sides. I suppose it holds about a quart. Such a […]
Although I’ve recorded and published many dreams, I have not written about sleep itself more than to say in passing that I slept poorly or I slept well, which is, really, a way of avoiding the subject. What a terrible night, I say, — and then move on to other things. Or, That’s the best I’ve slept in forty years, as if I could remember each and every night, and […]
The distance between our farm and the next town was about eight miles. There was a place by the railroad tracks there where we bought hundred-pound sacks of three-grain and chicken feed. Opening a new sack of either was like opening a can of coffee: it was impossible to inhale enough of the simple-complex aroma. But how long has it been since we had goats and chickens? Let’s see . […]
About two weeks and twenty entries in, I can pause here a moment and say that I like this new website. Not only has working on it been a positive, enjoyable experience right from the beginning, but to my eye, at least, the navigation and appearance are as simple as its purpose. I love that there are no visual distractions, and that there is plenty of breathing room for the […]
Why does the bird sing? Because it will? Because it must? Because it can? As the child is a poet, the child is a man. And the man goes out on a limb. Why does the man sing? To break, and to bend. To break . . . . . and to bend. [ 20 ]
William Michaelian 
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