William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Unnamable The

Not many days ago, and an equally uncertain number of nights, I read backward and aloud the last page of Samuel Beckett’s The Unnamable. Standing before our big front window, paced by the commas, I read the words slowly and with feeling. When I reached the top of the page, I wondered if the author might not have done the same thing himself. It’s possible he could even have written […]

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Money, Simplified

Save a dollar — what does that mean? Is the dollar in danger? Is it in dire need of my help? And how do I know which dollar it is I’m to save? How will I recognize it among other dollars? Will any dollar do? What happens if I save the wrong dollar, a dollar that doesn’t want to be saved, or doesn’t need saving at all, a dollar on […]

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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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