Philosophers, poets, thinkers, mystics — if we really understood them, would we quote them so often? Or would we instead relate our own direct experience, through our own actions and in our own words, or in whichever way is most natural, such as making bread, playing with children, and planting flowers? Truth is timeless. Realization is always fresh and new: it’s both perishable and everlasting. Still, quotes serve a purpose. […]
A healthy body wants only what it needs. A healthy mind acts accordingly. The stars were still bright at four this morning. Even then I could hear robins singing up the street. No shoes or socks: I was listening with my feet. Red, purple, pink: three big barrels of geraniums, three plants in each. They join us at each meal. Being geraniums is an art: sometimes we are in the […]
We are the bird, the cloud, the drifting insect. We are the waterfall. We are delicate bits of dandelion fluff. We are all of space, and all that space contains. And we contain that space: space enters and leaves our bodies with every breath. Space is not only out there, where the stars are. It is here, where Earth is, and where we are. And we — you, I, and […]
Bits and bits and odds and ends. I needn’t be, but I am. Sits and sits and nods and bends. As if is is was, and was is is. April 16, 2021 . Every Bit a Dandelion Now blissfully adrift, there is no question of weightlessness. Now working the laces on my worn out shoes, none of gravity. Now musing on the trials of the past, none of anxiety. Now […]
Here is the marble, and here is the hand that held it just so, and aimed. April 13, 2021 . [ 1075 ]
A little bit of coffee, a little bit of soap. Hand on the bell cord, eye on the rope. April 12, 2021 . Dream Fragment, 3:45 a.m. A young man, of sixteen or seventeen and a stranger to me, leads me to a table, atop which is a curious arrangement of small objects, seemingly of a scientific nature. “If I die,” he says quietly, and with the utmost reverence for […]
Up to their necks in genesis, dandelions sing psalms to my knees. April 7, 2021 . Heirloom A gray, quilted sky, snug to all four corners. A flight of geese for embroidery. Recently Banned Literature, April 21, 2014 . [ 1068 ]
barefoot in the garden / I am as warm as the first sunflower sprout April 2, 2021 . [ 1065 ]
last year’s apples — this year’s prices — like the other thoughts I set aside March 29, 2021 Canvas 872 April 6, 2017 . [ 1061 ]
Chilly dawn. Bare feet. Wet concrete. Writing mossy sidewalk with my toes. March 26, 2021 . [ 1058 ]
William Michaelian 