A slow run in the cold starry hour before dawn — up the hill, past the old couple’s crocuses still closed for the night, looking like color specialty shops where love models scarves and little boys wonder about their mother’s soft moles — to the corner, and then an eastward turn, ’neath streetlights that die as they burn — proud and solemn, trees without arms — without arms, without arms, […]
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 ]
Counting the one we live in, between here and the stop sign there are seven houses. I just ran to the stop sign and back three times. That makes forty-two houses. It’s foggy this morning and fairly chilly out, just above freezing. Nice and dark. No wind. Dawn just a thought, not yet a glow. Maybe a promise. We shall see. I refuse to take it for granted. Forty-two houses. […]
I dreamed all night of the perfect sentence, And then awakened to a perfect, wordless dawn. The vessel creaks. A wind is coming on. . [ 1360 ]
A hard freeze — and, climbing a twig staircase, a fluffy wren brings light to the world. January 1, 2022. Afternoon. . [ 1339 ]
The rising sliver of the waning moon is good company. So is a blank page. I have seen many of the latter dawn and fade over the years, very nearly one each day — fade into print, into scratch, swirl, and scrawl. But if I had to choose between the page and the moon, I would keep the moon and let go of the page. And while it is one […]
Fifty-eight degrees. Standing shirtless on the grass at dawn under a steady rain, face to the sky, I was surprised at how warm I felt. Twenty minutes later, inside, while finishing my shower with the water turned completely to cold, I was surprised again by how much colder the water was coming from the city well and up through the pipes that run under the house. What, in degrees, is […]
Loving thumbprint a valley wide; pie crust mountains;the very steam of sacred light. “Present Perfect”Recently Banned Literature, September 20, 2015 Don Quixote October 12, 2015 . [ 1201 ]
Hot days. Warm nights. Mosquito bites. Ripe grapes. Dry lakes. Somewhere, love, it rains. A red sun. A rooster dawn. I should have known. Sorry that I told you. August 14, 2021 . [ 1199 ]
Dewlight and starry grass — a soft blue mist, as far as the toes can see. August 10, 2021 . [ 1194 ]
William Michaelian 