Little boy in prayer, I see you playing there. Aye, to pray is to play — what else can I say? . Every night, I sleep on the floor at Grandma’s house. . Dear seagull in the wind, I’m a fish without a fin. . Autumn leaf — a child’s flag in the cold. . The Rambler, Numb. 20. Saturday, May 26, 1750. On affectation and hypocrisy. Such pageantry be […]
Late strawberries — almost ripe — the squirrels get them before we do. A cloudy morning, no dew: raked and mowed the front and back grassy areas. Birch leaves. Fir cones. Pine needles. Mushrooms. Took a walk through the neighborhood, reversing the direction of this morning’s run. This time, down the hill. Saw a man swabbing some kind of sealant on the sidewalk and driveway he had replaced two or […]
one tree more or less one bird one fish one elephant one insect one tiger one blue whale one you . [ 1831 ]
We threw our words overboard, only to find that they’d become anchors, and that our ship wouldn’t move; then they became fish: we cast a great net: around it they swam, and through; they leap’d to the heavens, were shimmering stars in the blue; then one by one they fell; they’re falling still; and each that lands is true. . [ 1801 ]
William Michaelian 