My body language — the way I walk, sit, and stand — would it be the same if I had no clothes? How much of my physical attitude and self-perception is in the clothing I wear? How much of my perception of others is in the clothing they wear? When we meet, do we meet each other, or do we meet each other’s clothes? We’re born naked, wearing a uniformly […]
I awoke early this morning feeling it was time to start the day. Then I read the kitchen clock — 2:58. So I stretched out on the floor again and slept for what felt like a good solid hour. The clock read 3:31. Ten minutes later, I was out in the street for a run. . A raft of lemons adrift at sea. The funny way you look at me. […]
It seems a shame to impose myself on a clean white page. It’s like being the first to leave tracks in newly fallen snow, or where someone has carefully raked a shaded path — unforgivable acts, though unavoidable, perhaps. And what of the garden space beside the driveway? If I’m still alive when the weather warms at last, shall I fill it again with seeds and plants, or let nature […]
In me is a little something of everyone who ever lived. Deep in the code, I’ve been through it all. The universe, too, is in my flesh, blood, and bones. That means I’m part of the greatest, most efficient recycling project ever known. As such, I’ve learned not to cling to the idea of being who I am, or who others think I am, or to worry about what will […]
Bread, seeds, nuts, raisins, honey. But what did I really have for breakfast? One by one, before taking a single bite, I thought of the origin and lives of each — walnut trees, fields of sunflowers and pumpkins, peanuts in the ground, a variety of grains swaying in the breeze, vineyard rows in autumn, bees busy in berry blossoms. And then I ate — slowly, marveling at how each of […]
Fifty-seven degrees. A steady rain. Imagine reading such details in an arid, treeless future and thinking they could not possibly be true. We went to the falls. Upon entering the forest, we — Falls? What falls? Forest? Impossible. A hoax — a hoax! a hoax! a hoax! a hoax! Stone, papyrus, books, electronic files — and these, our very own bones. September 27, 2021 . [ 1242 ]
Reading old dreams — as if the mind, upon entering, were a cave. September 4, 2021 . Memorial My day began in the middle of the night when, after emerging from a tall building that consisted only of stairs, landings, windows, and walls, I met a friend in an open grassy area that might have been a cemetery had there been any graves. The friend, a poet with whom I […]
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 ]
Does my life matter? I am part of life. If life matters, I matter. If life does not matter, I do not matter. Either way, I live: I am part of the miracle, even if it is not a miracle. The rest — the years, the words, the little personal details — is simply my way of saying how beautiful life seems to me. It would be self-centered to assume […]
Mushrooms and mildew — so much mildew, it’s possible the mushrooms have mildew. The alyssum and dahlias in the front flowerbed are white with mildew. Even the lilac has mildew. But the peppers don’t. Neither do the apricot or fig. I have mildew, but thus far it affects only the cerebrum, so I’m not worried. Such fogs we’ve been having — dense, dripping fogs, street-blackening fogs, window-streaming fogs, leaf-shimmering fogs, […]
William Michaelian 