The dream is a memory, the memory a dream. One such had its beginning in perhaps my seventh or eighth year, for it was after my recurring hospital-related dream of shooting marbles with George, though not so long that others had taken on any significance. I say it had its beginning, because it lives on, even now, as I approach my sixty-seventh birthday. I was reminded of it again when […]
The cricket’s quiet now . . . that’s the wisdom he carries into winter. . [ 1599 ]
raindrops cricket rhythm night and day and breath and pause . [ 1549 ]
I used to have a printer, and reams of paper on hand. Envelopes and postage stamps. Now I have a cricket in the rhododendron. I have the things I’ve said, and what I thought they meant. But only as I do or don’t remember them. A closet full of books I no longer need or wear. The coat that fit me when I had short beard and hair. Dust enough […]
Several weeks ago I made three angel wing begonia cuttings from an indoor plant gone wild and put them in a small glass vase to root. This afternoon I potted them, and set them at the bottom of the front step, where I expect they will be for the rest of the summer. By late fall the plants will likely be too tall for the pot. So it goes. The […]
the house sleeps better / during cricket time — and then / a breeze stirs the vine August 29, 2021 . Night Walk In my absent presence, a cricket singing here, here, here, as if the way were clear, clear, clear. Recently Banned Literature, October 28, 2017 . [ 1213 ]
Ripening grapes, the first crickets, and a few dry leaves. Light. Dark. Tired in the way of a warning. August 6, 2021 . Thinking of You Out There Thinking of you out there, deep in the dry grass and summer smoke, steady as a blind-cricket time-piece; how want is a dry well, and truth the tale of windmill blades. Recently Banned Literature, July 10, 2014 . [ 1189 ]
This afternoon I swept the walk, the driveway, and the moss-covered patio area behind the house, which was buried in dry, frosted birch leaves. Then I ate two dates, two prunes, a piece of dried mango, and a fresh ripe persimmon. Lately I have had to delete several telephone messages, in which were the recorded voices of people telling us in ignorant, angry tones how we should vote. One man […]
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, […]
Another Library of America book purchase: William Wells Brown: Clotel and Other Writings. Violence at Oregon’s state capitol — flags, baseball bats, guns. Only humans are intelligent enough to express themselves in this manner. High winds from the east. Smoke and ash. Fires raging in the Cascades. Widespread evacuations. Windows closed against the elements. Early morning. Here in the dark, one thinks of the birds. The cricket in the rhododendron […]
William Michaelian 