William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Bare Feet’

Acorns and Oaks

I ran before five yesterday morning in a driving wind and rain. The only person I met was a very large skunk, which was crossing the road in front of me when it stopped briefly at the sound of my footsteps, then scurried on. It ran along the edge of the opposite sidewalk for a distance of about a hundred feet before taking cover in some bushes. The rain was […]

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The One My Father Used

You ask what happens when we die, I say the weather’s fine and the soil’s warming nicely. You ask how to make good garden compost, I say yes, that’s it exactly. What’s it? you want to know. I say the dirt between your toes, the ever changing clouds. You say you hate to leave it all behind. I say try this shovel, it’s the one my father used. . [ […]

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A C-Minus Paper at Ten Thousand Feet

Two and a half miles: frogs the first time around, robins and owls the second. Forty-one degrees. Sandal-free and completely barefoot for a distance of three houses. To reflect the world, and everything and everyone in it, as clearly and truly as a high mountain lake; and when looking into that lake, to see the world and everything and everyone it. In school we were taught not to use incomplete […]

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The Dream Run

The dream run, though it lasted for only a few steps, was much like my morning run, except that in the dream run, I ran on the road without sandals. The asphalt was warm. The bare soles of my feet felt like they were being massaged. I’m not sure, but I think this is the first time since I’ve started running that I’ve dreamed about running. My memory is unreliable […]

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Jiggity-Jig

When we set out in the cold this morning, the body said, Are we sure? We didn’t answer, of course. And when we finished our run, with our feet wet and warm, the body again said, Are we sure? We climbed the steps, let ourselves in. Took off our wet cap, dried our sandals, and propped them against the wall above the furnace vent. Coffee? we said. Gladly, was the […]

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I Can’t Tell You

Eating only what I need is joy, not punishment. It takes no discipline at all. Having what I need is a miracle. I still run early every morning. The atmosphere these days is heavily scented with the blossoms of trees and grasses. I love the quiet and dark. I walk in the afternoon. I love the light. Two or three days ago, I saw Bruce. Bruce has a dog named […]

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Step by Step

At seven millimeters, my new huaraches are the thinnest, most comfortable I’ve worn. And after a few walks to get used to them, I’ve now taken them for a run. These sandals will likely be the last bit of footwear I use, as I gradually ease into walking and running entirely barefoot — because I’ve realized that for me, the best, most comfortable, most reliable shoes I can wear are […]

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Distance

Drenched again. Lately I’ve been running on different streets so I won’t know how far I’ve gone. It’s like rubbing someone’s back: a little this way, a little that, following the crevices and seams, and then coming back around again, high, low, to turn again at the mole — what has any of that to do with distance? Warm rain — sweet sleep — apricot blossoms — someone rings the […]

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Street Song

Shorts, a T-shirt, and another run through the dark in the rain. Fifty-two degrees, a joy to move and breathe. And then there’s the news: the neighbor’s overflowing gutter, a streetlight out, a car with a for-sale sign, the sound of distant geese. Wet arms, wet face, wet hair, wet feet. Nations come and nations go. Rally ’round the flag — a mother’s grief, her bloody sheets, her once-bright tablecloth. […]

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The Wanderer

Twenty-five degrees. A pleasant run. I did have on a light pair of gloves. But the feet were free, and the toes, you see, came happily along. The wanderer roves from east to west, in his wake the icy wind — he gathers stars in his tattered sack, shows his back then lights his lamp again. . [ 1384 ]

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