Ink Well
Robin singing in the dark so human in the art he makes a bird of me July 17, 2020, four-thirty a.m. [ 809 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Diaries’
Once In Your Life
After a hot day yesterday, there was a strong breeze most of the evening. This morning I noticed a tiny spider at the center of its web, suspended between two dahlias about eight feet apart. The sunlight had just illuminated the brave explorer, making it glow. I thought about the instant it had let go and allowed itself to be carried by the wind across the wide chasm, and wondered […]
Self-Portrait in White
The third volume of Vincent’s letters. Yesterday afternoon, he cut off a piece of his ear. July 15, 2020 Self-Portrait in White A man and his donkey; a snowy field; a cart full of bones. The wind. Poems, Slightly Used, November 10, 2009 [ 807 ]
And Again This Morning
Born in 1956 — and again this morning the signs all say this way — at least that’s how I conceive Venus teasing the living daylight out of two old poplar trees. July 14, 2020 [ 806 ]
Past Present
The apricots are coloring. I remember early mornings on the farm when the smell of ripening fruit filled the atmosphere — to breathe at that hour meant taking the combined scent of apricots, peaches, and plums deep into the lungs and into the bloodstream. The magic I felt, balanced my practical concerns with the infinite and set me working at a soul’s pace. And though I left behind that life […]
Rabbits in a Row
Back again early this morning to Goose Lake and environs, where the fading wildflowers and drying grass are among the first signs of summer. Even without rain, the lake itself seems not to recede, its waters sealed tight beneath a heavy layer of algae and scum. All that’s heard is the deep bellowing of a bullfrog, his voice as loud as any dock worker or boatman. A humid atmosphere, the […]
Maybe
I don’t believe in an afterlife — certainly not one in terms of punishment or reward, of safety, security, bliss, or pain. Neither do I believe that I’ve lived before, in the sense that I’ve passed through previous incarnations that have led to the one I’m living now. I don’t say these beliefs are wrong. I only say that in the sense in which they’re traditionally accepted, they don’t ring […]
Cedar Notes
As rapidly as the cedar is growing, it will be necessary before long to walk under it instead of around. We are already walking under the pine at the opposite end of the house. It too is young. Little by little, the trees are creating their own climates and conditions. For instance, the pine is already able to slow the progress of passing clouds, while the tips of the cedar […]
The News
The news is a mass addiction. Every minute of every day, millions of people return to it, in quiet desperation, in anger, in distraction, for another dose, another fix. It’s a form of collective hysteria, this thirst and hunger for the negative and obvious, this fear of not knowing what is already known, and which represents only a tiny portion of what it means to be alive in this wondrous […]
Swallows
Early most mornings, past the big oak where the street bends, I see swallows — usually a pair, but sometimes one or the other is out alone. I say one or the other, but they move so quickly I can’t tell them apart, or even judge their relative size. It’s possible, too, they’re not the same swallows — just as I’m not the same person who sees them from day […]
William Michaelian 