On the Far Road
Hands wrapp’d ’round a warm cup — faceless night, nameless fire. . [ 1533 ]
Full Flower
Terrible poetry, yet what a joy it is to read, for love is blooming with the weeds. . [ 1532 ]
Thought and Tongue
Have I ever had a problem that didn’t begin with words, or end in their absence? Not that I can recall. The irony is, I have been writing all the while. August 25, 2022 . [ 1531 ]
Nothing Easier
The shedding birch catkins have attracted the bushtits. Brief as it was, theirs was a joyous visit this morning. Music by the pound. There must be at least forty pounds’ worth in the plastic tub — lesson books, sheet music, and various bound collections. I took out a few — a book of scales in my old piano teacher’s hand, complete with fingering; two books for new beginners; and books […]
Accidental
A few chords on the piano, smooth the keys to my hand. Bare feet on the pedals. How many years has it been? A crate of old music. The wind. Shall I try to play again? August 22, 2022. Late Afternoon. . [ 1528 ]
Such a Gift
Enchantment. A very slow run with the moon and stars and clouds. Haste not, want not. . [ 1527 ]
For the Children
Blue stars, yellow stars. Chicory in bloom.Every inch a mile. A galaxy too.This old earth knows what to do. Do you? August 20, 2022 . [ 1526 ]
Where the Water Begins
Cooler weather, fresher air, and a southwest breeze.Two pictures from this morning’s stroll. Mission Lake Goose Lake In the foreground, wapato. Under the low branch, lilies.That’s where the water begins. August 19, 2022 . [ 1525 ]
The Mask
Warm, cloudy, humid. Fires east, fires south. And here I am, recognizing once again the sheer luxury it is to be able, for so long, to pursue my tiny line of thinking — to read my books, to write my notes and poems and then pretend them to the world — for pretending and publishing are much alike — tho’ the mask I wear is nearly identical to what it’s […]
William Michaelian 