William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Dreams’

Your Answer

What do they mean? Do you ever ask the words themselves? Or do you expect them to do as you tell them? If they were your children, would you demand their rigid compliance, or would you give them the freedom and space they need to blossom? Your answer reveals the kind if writer, speaker, thinker, dreamer you are. If you’re sure the words you use are at your command, then […]

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Dream Notes

Thyme is blooming in abundance along the Goose Lake trail; also Queen Anne’s Lace and poison hemlock. There is less chicory this year. We saw sixteen rabbits on our walk of two and a half miles, watching us and waiting in the path, until their last-second run for cover. Tansy. Blackberries. Thistles. Twice, we ran for a short distance. The volunteer cherry tomatoes at the foot of our garden space […]

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Night, Flight, Light

The grass seed farmers have started cutting their fields. The summer scent of drying grass is intense this morning, like childhood and death in one divine breath. The streets were so quiet during my run at four-thirty, it seemed the houses were all empty. I wonder how many times the world has ended today; I wonder how many times it will begin. While I was watering the hanging basket, the […]

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Jungle Dreams

In what seemed for a time a kind of dance or wrestling match, I moved the split-leaf philodendron from its white-stained, root-bound clay pot to a much larger, lighter, clay-colored plastic pot. Unfortunately, I had to break the clay pot with a hammer in order to take out the plant — except that technically, when I was done hammering, the philodendron was already out. The operation was performed next to […]

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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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