Reading this, I think, What better way to end this book? — among other things, such as, Have I the courage? January 17, 2022 . Cloud Kisses A cloud so low, it hides the top rung of your ladder. Only the soles of your bare feet can be seen from the ground. You take up the ladder behind you. You are gone. And the cloud kisses the ground. Recently Banned […]
Can one impose when moved by love to speak?And if one loves, can he be imposed upon? Canvas 511 January 12, 2015 . [ 1347 ]
January 10, 1976. Forty-six years.Back then, my father’s mother referred to us as “two children playing.”She was seventy-five at the time. She’s still right. January 10, 2022 Canvas 1,130 January 10, 2018 . [ 1346 ]
When I refer to my body as it, I feel I am being unfair. But would him be any more accurate? Would her? And why my, when, if there is any belonging at all, the belonging belongs to the earth? January 5, 2022 . And Here Is a Child I love, too, those thoughts that almost rise, almost begin, then vanish, content to seek no substance or body, and whose […]
More snow during the night — about an inch, maybe a little less. Thirty degrees on the front step; barefoot down to the end of the driveway, and then back up, possibly a little colder. Still, relatively speaking, the weather is mild. Real cold — Solzhenitsyn’s cold and Jack London’s cold — is not a joke. It is not to be trifled with. It’s easy to walk barefoot outside for […]
James Baldwin: Collected Essays, in the fifteenth printing of the Library of America edition — a gift for Christmas from “The Kids.” At one-thirty in the morning, the sound of a raccoon climbing the fence near our bedroom window. Into the kitchen for a sip of water, the cold floor a comfort to my warm bare feet. Streetlights and a dusting of snow. December 26, 2021 . Early-Morning Streetlight For […]
the sweet call to rest / the bare lilac / the mossy wall / the cedar chest December 23, 2021 . O Holy Night I do love the short days, the early closing in of the dark, the long nights beginning in the afternoon, the afternoons even earlier on the rooftops through the firs. There is so much light in everything everywhere I turn, in objects, faces, and books, the […]
And such were the questionsso persistently asked, that children taughtwords to speak at last, and the wordsused their eyes, and heldtheir lips fast. “Such Were the Questions”Recently Banned Literature, August 17, 2014 . That Little Bit I Say That little bit I say before it gives waybeneath its own weight, and the icy wind upon the faceof the statue I’ve become in this gardenof wonder, O dear one,hasten, grace alonecan […]
William Michaelian 