Crumble Me
I don’t mind being simple. The earth is simple. Crumble me. Turn me with a shovel. See me full of worms and roots. . [ 1644 ]
Love Story
Leaves crisp where they’ve fallen, grass growing through. Winter’s a love story. We are too. . [ 1643 ]
Reunion
As my fingertips on one hand traced the lines of the open palm of the other, I suddenly recognized them both as old childhood friends. It felt like years since I’d seen them. I held them up. They looked at each other, then at me. There were many things I could have asked them, but they seemed so sensitive and shy, I only nodded and kept silent, thinking, Perhaps another […]
Cosmos
Each day an exploration — every inch of the body, to the furthest star. . [ 1641 ]
Cracking Walnuts
This old body is going through some changes this winter. It reminds me of cracking walnuts with my father during the long cold evenings. He was a boy, and I was at least a hundred and ten, when, crack! The outside was in, and the inside was out again. . [ 1640 ]
Mortality
’t is a conscious winter, when the rain is bright and the stars go out . [ 1639 ]
One Breath
There’s but one breath — you’re taking it now. The next is assumption, religion, hope. . [ 1638 ]
Museum Pieces
I sweep the rug in the entry with the whisk broom our family used during my childhood. Every once in a while, bristles come out — museum pieces — like these, from my memory. . [ 1637 ]
Cured by the Cold
So perfect, so still — did you die, little bird, or were you cured by the cold? . [ 1636 ]
Invisible Guest
Remember, act towards one another as if you’re in the company of an invisible guest — someone kind, gentle, unselfish, dearly loved, the better angel of your nature. . [ 1635 ]
William Michaelian 