William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Drawings

Cold Days

  Cold Days Yes, if I were an artist, I would paint you exactly like that, with snow in your hair. And the poor statue tried to answer, but could not. Songs and Letters, December 23, 2008 [ 233 ]

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Christmas Dream

Christmas Dream

  Christmas Dream By the time we had finished unwrapping my father, we were all very old and yet for all that he still blinked and smiled and said,                   “We need more wood on the fire.” Songs and Letters, December 24, 2008 [ 228 ]

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Canvas 1,228

Canvas 1,228 — November 23, 2018

If I had not fallen from my horse
she might never have licked my face

hay on her breath
ice through my back

a shout to the hearse
at the edge of the pond

go home our tongues are on fire

“If I Had Not Fallen from My Horse”
Poems, Slightly Used, January 28, 2011




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If I Had Not Fallen from My Horse

Canvas 592 — To the Child

You’ve just sailed into the harbor. This is your face. And this is the face of all who are glad you are here. Do you see she is a he is a we with a tear?   To the Child So much strife, rooted in the idea of ownership — in the idea that “this land is your land, this land is my land.” But this land, this earth, this […]

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I remember working on a story once for eight days, with the steadily growing realization that it was bad. But I stayed with it, and when the story was finally done, it was even worse than I’d thought. Eight days. Hours and hours. Time spent. Pages and pages, into the bin. It was grand.

 

Canvas 1,227

Canvas 1,227 — November 3, 2018




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Eight Days — Canvas 1,227