Star detail. Northbound clouds, lit by a sun an hour from rising. Clover detail. Leaves cool, and only slightly damp. Spider detail. A web from jade to fern. Breath detail. The boundless, timeless happening of oneself. Zen detail. Unique, like everything and everyone else. The same, in a different way. Inseparable as peace and the gentle eyes of a cow, as joy and the sound of her bell. July 30, […]
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 ]
Minding the details, relishing them, staying with them day after day through the years — we might call this the art of the cumulative. The ground behind the house is deep in yellow birch leaves. Here and there, they are suspended in spider webs under the eaves; some dangle from a single thread and twist and turn in the breeze. The fig tree, too, is yellowing. An hour ago, I […]
William Michaelian 