The long nights, the deep, dark days, the eerie, sublime chill, shadows hidden within shadows, naked limbs, moss in every crevice and seam — if I’m lucky enough to emerge come spring, how can I arrive unchanged? In the street of an early morning, I’m amazed by the relentless human roar, the gasping of brakes, the grinding of gears, the howling of wheels, and I think, What means Sanity if […]
Yesterday evening our eldest son was here, and, as we often do, we talked about where I might put more bookshelves, even though there doesn’t seem to be any place for them. I said I thought we should go ahead and build several, and that the simple truth of their physical presence would answer the question. There is room, in other words, but more shelves are needed to find it. […]
A warm, still night, with smoke enough to twitch the nose and rile the passages — but by four this morning, the atmosphere had lightened considerably, and the air was clear enough to go out for a run. At present, it feels like there’s more smoke inside the house than out. I saw no one save two cats, one black with a bell — a bell-black inky tinkler — one […]
Watching dead people on TV — it seems so strange to me that everyone we meet is image-stuffed — in love with Marilyn Monroe, or some such — cat in your lap, soft furr, purring during drug commercials — and didn’t she/he/they die of an overdose? didn’t we all, our fingers bent and dumb from texting? . [ 1820 ]
There’s a ghost in the neighborhood, a skinny stray cat wailing like a human; isn’t it interesting that you know what I mean? . [ 1788 ]
little kitty flag up tail street cross run up never fail food dish moodish flop and flail bumps me stumps me purrs me lures me sits me quits me plays me pays me flays me tooth and nail . [ 1773 ]
I’ve known a few cool cats, but most have been loaves of bread, purrers and posers, a few owls among them, nightstalkers, softwalkers, streetlight ramblers, and poets like Kerouac, nine lives or one, not knowing which they’re on, fenceposts, railcars, food dishes, wine bottles, tambourines, or bongo drums — like, meow, man, and they still carry on. . [ 1759 ]
Two and a half miles and two owls. Robins and rain. Petals and pollen. Street, feet, sandal-squeak. And that was my run. My brother’s funeral has come and gone. It was in Edmonton. We were here at home. There was video provided the next day, despite a power outage during the service, which left the room dark. A side door had to be opened to admit some light. Admit the […]
The water in your glass is ageless and timeless. It has been around the world. It has filled the ocean, washed over rocks, sustained life, and quenched the thirst of saints and madmen. It has memory, and it responds to gratitude, love, reverence. It responds to melody. It responds to bitterness and anger. Experiments have been performed that show this is true. Its structure changes. Water that is loved and […]
Somewhere in the 444-page doorstop that I affectionately call One Hand Clapping, there’s an entry in which I am preoccupied with counting all of the corners in the house we were renting at the time. It ended up being an absurd number — but of course all numbers are absurd — at least I have always found them so. But that didn’t stop me from counting. The big rooms were […]
William Michaelian 