Childish notes — some things never change. And some things, are not things, at all. Summer in the vineyard, a small boy sitting under a vine, hidden by all the other vines. Thinking of it still, of the stillness, still that still, nigh sixty-eight years old, in full. One breath in all — one moment, one grand revelation, one sensation, of being. Alive, blue jeans to the ground, the same […]
It’s been so long — I think of writing you today. Do you think of writing me? — And do you wonder what to say? So many letters set out this way — Like little rafts at sea — And we — Blind fishermen — Should Odysseus pass this way — Would he know us by our hunger — Or our bravery? Blind Fishermen. April 15, 2020. Poems, Notes, and […]
A very humid atmosphere, heavy with mold. Stand still long enough and mushrooms will sprout on your arms. Yes, those are your arms, the ones you keep covered far too much of the time for fear of just such an outcome. Embarrassing, you say, to walk through the grocery store with mushrooms on your arms. And I say, balderdash, let them erupt, and see if they’re not admired by the […]
I’ve lived a fair span; it would be greedy to depend on more; yet it isn’t good grace to count the years, or close the door. . Read the forty-third, forty-fourth, and forty-fifth chapters of Middlemarch. Read The Rambler, Numb. 9. Tuesday, April 17, 1750. Chuse what you are; no other state prefer. — Elphinston The philosopher may very justly be delighted with the extent of his views, and the […]
I would describe most of my adult life as a great unlearning — a process moving gradually from prior conditioning and habit, through blindness, ignorance, intimation, denial, recognition, acceptance, and gratitude. Is the process done? Have I reached my destination? I don’t worry about it, or think in those terms. I’m simply amazed by my good fortune. I won’t even say that I know what I know. Do I? And […]
Will I have any thoughts today that are original or worth remembering? Will I have any that are even necessary? Familiar chatter, recycled debris, replay of memory. Discussions on social media — there are those rare and beautiful times when they take on the spirit of an enlightened classroom, where everyone is teacher and everyone is student, and all questions and answers are respected and encouraged — rare, too, in […]
How pleasantly strange, once again, to find myself running through the neighborhood at four in the morning, while no one else is out and about. And on this new day, what is the first thought I remember? How few thoughts. The others, before and after, have drifted into space. Maybe they’ll find a home out there. Maybe that is their home, except out there is also in here — this […]
I’m not only a floor-sweeper, I’m a floor-sleeper. And I’ve never swept, or slept, better. I sweep my dreams, those I can remember, and I sleep my broom. We both are kind to dustpans. Over the years, I’ve found all mattresses to be back-breakers. Finally, it dawned on me that humans aren’t really meant to sleep that way. Now I can stretch out anywhere, on any firm surface, drift off […]
I’ll be old today — love what I love most — ferns, moss, stone — come hither, friend, and be alone. . [ 1821 ]
O, to read our autobiographies to the end, and arrive at our original perfection! . [ 1802 ]
William Michaelian 