William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Experience’

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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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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Be Here Now

If whatever I write, or draw, or make, or do, is to be fresh and new, and not simply more of the same, however pleasant and comfortable that same may seem, must I not make sure that I am myself fresh and new? Must I not be my own peaceful revolution, and free of my usual thought pattern, with all its familiar repetition and redundancy? Must I not be willing […]

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Variable Gravity

Two and a half miles near, but not in view of, the river. A silence that is scent, the scent silent in silent assent. The ascent of this idea or thought: variable gravity. Let us suppose that on this earth, instead of gravity being a steady, predictable thing, it varies from person to person and day to day; let us know, through experience, that we cannot always count on having […]

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My Childhood Self

In terms of imagination, joy, and wonder, I am as much my childhood self as ever. I am a dreamer, and the world passes through me as a dream. That is my reality. There has been an accumulation of facts, of knowledge, yes — but as useful as some of these are, or seem to be, they are only superficial adornments. They are not mine; I lay no claim to […]

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Graffiti and Bread Crumbs

My life experience cannot be duplicated. It is too complex, too richly detailed. It is personal, private. It is mine alone. What happens to us, happens to us individually. Triumphs, trials, and tragedies can be shared, but each is felt, interpreted, and remembered differently. Even the death of a sibling, parent, or family friend is not simply one death: the departed not only dies for himself, he dies separately and […]

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Now

It’s a peculiar thing, the urge, perhaps even the need, to make poems of private, personal experiences you know that others, too, have had. After a while, there gets to be an easy inevitability about the process, to the point that the occurrences of poem and experience often overlap and even seem reversed; sometimes it’s almost as if one is remembering the future, or that the past is about to […]

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The Observer Observed

Is it possible to read about, or listen to, the experiences of others, without filtering them through, or comparing them to, one’s own? I don’t suggest that an unbiased comparison would be of lesser or no value. In essence, that asks the same, or nearly the same, question: Is it possible to consider one’s own experiences non-judgmentally, as other than a series of successes and failures, or a source of […]

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