The tie you never wore, The pants too tight, too loose, Too long, too short to fit, And all the rest of it. Hello, madam. Good day, sir. My hat is off, my head is soft, My heart is just a blur. But I love you — yes, I love you, Just as if I were there And you were here. . [ 1588 ]
First the colors, then the chrysanthemums. Or is it the other way around? . [ 1552 ]
Love, our little garden is in — in the ground, in the rain, in the wind. Canvas 1,260 May 6, 2022 . [ 1456 ]
Willing to listen. Listening still. They gazed at the stone. At the grass and the ground. Felt the sun of his smile. . [ 1410 ]
In a graveyard, on a hill — Gravity, try to stop me now. November 16, 2021 . [ 1290 ]
Here is the marble, and here is the hand that held it just so, and aimed. April 13, 2021 . [ 1075 ]
Am I being vague? I don’t mean to be. I love words. And they love me. We’re naturally hesitant, wondering, each time we meet, who will be the first to speak. What should we mean? We aren’t nails hammered through wood. We’re more like butterflies, or bees with pollen on our toes. Documents? Manifestos? We laugh. We can’t all be bibles or epitaphs. Some of us must be free. Recently […]
The sound of rain. The blessèd certainty of it — think as I will, believe as I will, act as I will, the rain will fall on my grave, and that is a blessing too: a blessing to the stone, should I have one, a blessing to the soft green grass that grows over me. And for an epitaph, these two words will do: Listening. Still. May they describe you. […]
Living shadows, and the solid dreams they cast — The cedar and the lamp post, the school boy and the cloud: The perfect shroud — as if Cain had smiled at Abel, And Abel — had wept — and bowed. . [ 904 ]
I woke up in the middle of the night needing a sip of water. I walked down the hall, and as I passed through the dark sitting room, a sentence sprang to mind, or the beginning of a sentence — a phrase, a breath, a sound, a combination of sounds — a powerful suggestion, insistent, dreamlike, meaningful, profound, but I didn’t have the focus to pick up a pen and […]
William Michaelian 