William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Diaries’

The Family Album

Time? How can I define it if I don’t know what or where it is? And yet all my life, I’ve casually and confidently used the word itself. Very well — but I must never make it my defense or my excuse. Little children — all of the rocks in the avalanche have names. Their meanings will come, by and by, brought by butterflies and babbling brooks. August 2, 2019

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The Greeting

To accept the differences in children, loved ones, strangers, and friends, is one thing; to give thanks for them is another. Do both. And include, then forget, yourself. The moon is on the wane; and, once again, no one has the heart to tell her. A furry black bee is reveling in the blue flowers of the Agapanthus. Agapanthus: love, flower. July 29, 2019   The Greeting Now the greeting […]

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Sunday Stroll

Potted yard-gnome in a clump of dry grass girl at a window of unwashed glass and the shopkeeper turns it over and says look at the back here is the artist’s signature but I see bird tracks and arthritic hands the colored paths of an old butter knife and the child at the window is an old woman now so beautiful down from the shelf and the shopkeeper smiles when […]

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I Love the Flower Girl

Politics is a filthy sponge. Do you want it in your sink? Do you want it in your mind? Yesterday evening, after two warm days, a cleansing ocean wind rushed into the valley once again. This morning the air is sweet and still. And I sense something else, which makes me say these words aloud: autumnal understanding. If I do not return your wave, is the loss not mine? For […]

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This Time Around

In this its second summer, the apricot tree is making great progress. One thing I love about it is that it does not need to leave its place to check on mine. Call it patience, call it wisdom, or a simple twist of fate, it knows I will come and reveal all. Hand on wood, leaf on face, the shady space still grows. And I suppose that makes me human […]

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So Sudden the Bird In Flight

How stirring, the seagulls’ cries from the Claggett Creek wetlands behind the houses facing north along Verda Lane. I heard their voices several times yesterday, both morning and afternoon, borne, like the scent of home-cooking, on the southwest breeze. Add to this, winging toward them at dawn, the great blue heron, silent, generally alone, though occasionally in the spacious company of another of its kind. I can almost see the […]

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Portent

The flesh in dreams is as real as it seems. And this is a dream. Bookmark, Page 455, Poems, Notes, and Drawings   Portent I heard a sound, turned, and saw my father approaching through the mist. He was smiling, as usual. “Your mother told me to come and get you,” he said, “so here I am. Are you ready?” I told him yes, that I was ready, and that […]

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Five Crows, One Limb

How long has it been since I felt offended? I wonder. I really don’t know. Who, or what, is there to offend? Is there a noble concept of myself in danger of being toppled? Do I have a religious or philosophical point to argue, or a political position to defend? No. I am just a child in an old man’s body, up, in the morning, once again; up, to see […]

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Three Poems from the Oregon Coast

The cool, moist airflow off the ocean this July is bringing the seagulls inland. With such a fine current at their disposal, I imagine the sixty-mile journey here is but a two- or three-hour ride. It’s good to hear their cries. And their arrival makes me wonder about the summer ahead. Will it be milder than the past several, which have been marked by excessive heat and numerous forest fires? […]

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