If I remember correctly, this poem is the first I wrote in the form of a dictionary entry; hence the category, Definitions, in which I’ve filed a couple dozen or more poems and notes that fit that term. I’ve thought before, and I think again now — though I’m sure I’m not the first to think it — what a fine thing it would be to have an entire dictionary […]
The dictionary in question is Webster’s New International Dictionary of the English Language, published by G. & C. Merriam Company in 1924. It weighs just under fifteen pounds; the front cover is frayed and attached by only a few threads. I’ve since acquired older dictionaries, published early in the nineteenth century, in English and Spanish, and others of a more recent date, in French and German. Armenian, Japanese, and Russian […]
One day, at a very early age, I reached the conclusion that I would live forever. I remember saying to myself on that occasion, in all simple certainty, I cannot die. It was a revelation, not a plea, one which arose not from long deliberation or fear, but from the earth itself, and seemed to emanate from the palm of my upheld hand. This startling new truth was borne out […]
In Recently Banned Literature, there was a department I called Definitions. Written about a year and a half apart yet clearly related, “Life, A Funny” and “Hurry” are two brief entries from that odd between-the-ears dictionary I fall back on to make up for Webster’s occasional gaps and misunderstandings, while revealing my own. Life, A Funny Life? A funny kind of bark, on a funny kind of tree, and a […]
This old dictionary, in full bloom on my work table. A petal falls: solitude, noun. Songs and Letters, August 18, 2008 [ 48 ]
William Michaelian 