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 ]
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 […]
A very warm afternoon, outside and in. It seems logical, natural, inevitable, that, as I age, I am moving steadily, inexorably, towards silence. The season holds sway, but the conclusion is the same any time of year. Towards word silence; journal silence; poem silence; grave silence. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; silence to silence. Emerged from silence, proceeding unto silence; never having left silence, forever part of silence. Loving […]
You — the dawning of the age and the greatmoral argument — disarmed by beauty — the turningof the page and the precious life you have spent. “Helpless”Recently Banned Literature, September 27, 2014 Canvas 411 August 3, 2014 . [ 1180 ]
And now you dream yourself a cloud,when a little naked child lets go the stringof her balloon, so you won’t be alone. Recently Banned Literature, August 8, 2014 . [ 1179 ]
Are you finding your way? Or are you like me, and love being lost? July 29, 2021 . Little One Little one, this last ripe plum, a smoke-red sun come to age; stay, little one, little sage; stay; see what your love has done. Recently Banned Literature, August 18, 2014 . [ 1178 ]
and then you feel like a poet come back again,only to be loved this time around — scribbling furiously,toward the second time you are gratefully undone. “Toward the Second Time”Recently Banned Literature, August 17, 2016 Canvas 738 August 17, 2016 . [ 1176 ]
Every day, Nature says, I am willing.And every day, Man, her ungrateful child replies, I am not. (But some of us are! Some of us! And the cry went up.) July 25, 2021 Canvas 296 July 25, 2013 . [ 1175 ]
Imagine a future museum that preserves the furniture of today — the overstuffed chairs, the massive sofas, the acre-wide, bottomless, bloated beds — and its lean and agile visitors looking on wide-eyed, shaking their heads. Why did they torture themselves? How did they live that way? High in the mountain wilderness, John Muir would use the scented branches of conifers to make a bed for the night. The crystal waters […]
William Michaelian 