William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Everything and Nothing

Wandering and Whispering

You won’t be surprised to hear that our eldest son, avid reader and collector that he is, offered to take me to Robert’s Bookshop in anticipation of my birthday. We enjoyed a beautiful Sunday-morning drive to the coast, through the lush spring mountain greenery, and arrived almost immediately upon their opening. As soon as we stepped inside and inhaled the old book smell, we felt the same rush of excitement […]

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Shangri-La

How nice it would be if our letters were the old-fashioned paper kind. As it is, having a mailbox these days is hardly justified. Our carrier, as I said a while back, is friendly; I’m sure he’d understand if I removed ours, or at least find it humorous. He can leave the advertisements on our front step if he likes; or I can place the recycling bin at the end […]

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What You Already Know

So it goes, my dear butterfly. I write to tell you what you already know: I’m still glad to wake up in the morning, and my days, however seemingly ordinary, are full. I have a small cup of coffee, then go out for a walk before sunrise. This is followed by a few stretching and breathing exercises, which I do here in the library while looking out the big front […]

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Little Bird

And if we had left the oil in the ground, and the coal, and the minerals, and the gems? If we had not cut down the trees and polluted the rivers? If we had not altered the climate and destroyed the environment? If we had not conquered our neighbors, and humbly learned from them instead? If we had not created artificial intelligence, and data centers, and guns? If we had […]

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Mossy Spots and Cauliflower

Reading Thoreau’s Walden and Percy Fitzgerald’s life of Henry Irving, while dipping at random into many related and unrelated volumes. Encyclopedia Britannica entries: Oliver Cromwell; Thomas Cromwell; Thomas More. Books by and about famous stage actors: Sothern; Jefferson; Garrick; and that guy some people still talk about and others quote without knowing, Shakespeare. I was on the roof yesterday, taking care of some mossy spots before last night’s rain. Not […]

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In Quiet Moments

It may sound childish, but I marvel at how many things are happening all at once, and that, somehow, they become one thing — a single grand movement, which may or may not have meaning or direction, but, rather, the quality of blossoming, or unfolding, seemingly in my presence. My own body, with its wondrous workings, is an immediate example; it’s also a symbol, because in it there are battles […]

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Something to Think About

Ah, the old aunts and uncles. Not only were they wonderful conversationalists and storytellers, they were surrounded with eager and willing listeners — we who never tired of their tales, and who prized their humor, and held joint stock in their memories, experience, and observations. The fire crackling, the coffee perking, the ashtrays full — this was all a feast for the younger folk, and it claimed our full attention. […]

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In This Room

Sometimes I look into my old books as a dying man looks into the sunset and easily finds himself there. Other times, I turn their pages as might a man with dreams and plans with time and energy enough to realize them. A few moments ago, reading the introduction of a small hardcover published in 1893, a book I read in its entirety several years ago, I felt almost as […]

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