Here, below the falls, on the surface of the clear quiet pools, A ballet unfolds: scooters, skaters, skippers, striders, skimmers, Skeeters, Jesus bugs, making light of your reflection. Someday you may be crucified, for all they know. After all, men still do such things. Women, too. Or, you may simply sink, like a stone. Into the primitive. The wise. The beautiful. Alone. August 7, 2021 . [ 1191 ]
Now your art is on the wall, I recall when they let Jesus down. . [ 1190 ]
Ripening grapes, the first crickets, and a few dry leaves. Light. Dark. Tired in the way of a warning. August 6, 2021 . Thinking of You Out There Thinking of you out there, deep in the dry grass and summer smoke, steady as a blind-cricket time-piece; how want is a dry well, and truth the tale of windmill blades. Recently Banned Literature, July 10, 2014 . [ 1189 ]
I don’t fear comfort, but when I’m around it I move quietly, not to waken the dumb beast. August 5, 2021 . [ 1188 ]
Before you sleep, bury the day’s dead. Gently. Gently. With reverence. August 4, 2021 . [ 1187 ]
Near the receding edge of lily-infested Goose Lake, in the brambly shadows just beyond the dense growth of Wapato now in flower, there’s a casual assemblage of Bittersweet nightshade. The shoreline, such as it is, and visible nowhere, has retreated about forty feet — normal for the time of year — at this one remaining place of access. On the far side, seen through one gap, is another colony of […]
Everything is so familiar. And so strange. I am here, I am not here. I am, and I am not at all. Then your hand passes through me. And I think, what a wonderful reminder. And ask, how have you conjured these bones? And night replies, perfume. Recently Banned Literature, February 5, 2018 . [ 1185 ]
Sometimes I want to reach out, but I don’t feel like writing, or drawing, or conversing. And so I become a ghost, or a waterfall, or a storm. Chances are, that’s when we met. Recently Banned Literature, November 30, 2010 . [ 1184 ]
In terms of imagination, joy, and wonder, I am as much my childhood self as ever. I am a dreamer, and the world passes through me as a dream. That is my reality. There has been an accumulation of facts, of knowledge, yes — but as useful as some of these are, or seem to be, they are only superficial adornments. They are not mine; I lay no claim to […]
Australopithecus afarensis. Homo habilis. Homo erectus. Homo sapiens. What is generally referred to as ancient wisdom is of such recent vintage, that one can only begin to wonder what wisdom really is. And, biologically speaking, when, and where, and how, did the soul creep in? Was it present in the man-apes with brains the size of those in chimpanzees? Did God say — each word requiring millions of years to […]
William Michaelian 