William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Dreams’

The Dream Run

The dream run, though it lasted for only a few steps, was much like my morning run, except that in the dream run, I ran on the road without sandals. The asphalt was warm. The bare soles of my feet felt like they were being massaged. I’m not sure, but I think this is the first time since I’ve started running that I’ve dreamed about running. My memory is unreliable […]

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A Few Clay Pots

Let’s leave behind a few clay pots and a worn out pair of sandals. As for dreams and thoughts, let’s keep them guessing. They will be anyway: Religion, music, poetry, science — cathedrals, symphonies, books — Fragments that represent, but never quite make, the whole. Our little daughter said it best with the very first word she spoke: Light. She was nine months old. And when she was seven, She […]

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Forty-Two Houses

Counting the one we live in, between here and the stop sign there are seven houses. I just ran to the stop sign and back three times. That makes forty-two houses. It’s foggy this morning and fairly chilly out, just above freezing. Nice and dark. No wind. Dawn just a thought, not yet a glow. Maybe a promise. We shall see. I refuse to take it for granted. Forty-two houses. […]

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Curious and Beautiful

A curious thing, and to me a beautiful thing, is how all of this life, and yet none of it, seems real. For me it’s a vivid, personal fiction, a novel, a poem. The days are a series of pages, full of lines and paragraphs connected by a common thread, and that thread is the familiar idea of myself, which I’ve been creating and imagining from moment to moment since […]

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Make It Old

Steady rain — three inches and counting. There are rows of tents in the park downtown, where, decades ago, families gathered and children played. Sometime during the night, I awoke from a dream in which I and some unknown but familiar others were approached and threatened by a vague form of hostility. As the danger grew nearer, we watched and waited near a glistening cedar. Suddenly the danger was gone, […]

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Uncertain Terms

Alternating between two wide dirt roads on either side of an even wider river, my father driving, asking which road I preferred, changing directions in mid-air, crossing the water and lightly touching down, then continuing on . . . I said any road is fine, they all lead in the right direction — not because I knew, but because he was happy, and I wanted him to go on enjoying […]

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