The First Thing They Did
When they came from outer space, the first thing they did was put the humans on reservations. May these scratches be worthwhile, even if you don’t have fleas. . [ 1546 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Borders’
Front Row Blues
If I were a songwriter, I’d make it a good one. I’d make it a hit in the fast food parade. People would pay me, then they would slay me, all while they sit — in the fast food parade. August 22, 2021 . Front Row Blues Fences and flags, rich men and thugs, pickups and guns — see them all at the fast food parade. Pay to get in, […]
Pandemia
The United States of Us and Them. The Republic of Either Or. The Union of Right or Wrong. This Side or That. I have lived in each. They called themselves free. But their borders were trash. Their borders were long. So I moved to the land. I moved to the sky. I moved to the sea. I moved to The Burial Ground. . [ 1174 ]
Thistledown
O, dear one, life is a lightly blown kiss. Can you imagine a love like this? Or will you choose pride, regret, and loneliness? “Which Way the Breeze?” Recently Banned Literature, August 2, 2017 . Thistledown Freedom is the art of letting go, now, of all that will be washed away in the end — our prejudices and cares, our politics, arrogance, religion, and despair, our national identities, our borders, […]
Scene from a Recurring Childhood
If my age is equivalent to the number of times the earth has traveled around the sun since I was born, how old would I be if I lived on another planet, or in another galaxy, or in another universe altogether? And isn’t this what I already do? The degree to which I resist things as they are — that might be a more accurate rendering of my age. The […]
Canvas 592 — To the Child
You’ve just sailed into the harbor. This is your face. And this is the face of all who are glad you are here. Do you see she is a he is a we with a tear? To the Child So much strife, rooted in the idea of ownership — in the idea that “this land is your land, this land is my land.” But this land, this earth, this […]
No Tobacco
I clench the pipe between my teeth. No tobacco. I think about a trip to the store, the fine aroma of a newly opened pouch. But I don’t get up. Instead, I light an imagined match with the flick of a nail, pretending it’s my thumb, and then I puff and inhale, puff… and… inhale. The store is a little place on the corner in an undiscovered country. There’s a […]
William Michaelian 