It’s been so long — I think of writing you today. Do you think of writing me? — And do you wonder what to say? So many letters set out this way — Like little rafts at sea — And we — Blind fishermen — Should Odysseus pass this way — Would he know us by our hunger — Or our bravery? Blind Fishermen. April 15, 2020. Poems, Notes, and […]
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 ]
this graveyard is full / enough thinking for one life / at the end of fall December 7, 2021 . [ 1311 ]
In a graveyard, on a hill — Gravity, try to stop me now. November 16, 2021 . [ 1290 ]
Snow in the churchyard and you giving your old black coat to a stranger frozen and still its weight on his shoulders known only to him his wings showing through his joy again Recently Banned Literature, December 26, 2013 . [ 1271 ]
I was ankle-deep in organic composted dairy manure, shovel in hand, when the mailman stopped at the foot of the garden space and said with a smile, “I just realized you look exactly like Gandalf.” I pointed to the manure pile in the driveway and replied, “And this is the source of my magic.” Under the vine, then, under the apricot, under the blueberry. Under the sun, the moon, and […]
Tiny blue flowers, dressed to forget what you were about to say (but never the first to look away) “Tiny Blue Flowers” Recently Banned Literature, May 28, 2015 . Up Through the Boot Up through the boot the grass finds its way Up on the knoll past the root of the tree Up to the shin and up to the knee sure as I lie here, waiting for thee And […]
Here is the marble, and here is the hand that held it just so, and aimed. April 13, 2021 . [ 1075 ]
Let us not explain everything, that we may not explain ourselves away, into meaninglessness, or superficiality, which is far worse. . A Faraway Town Between the rows beside the mounds above the tombs he knows so well, the tombs so dark, the tombs so cool, that pull him down and bend him ’round one frayed shoelace at a time, one copper-colored eyelet, a faraway town (without any news) where no […]
The rain isn’t falling in huge amounts, but there’s enough of it every day to keep things glistening and drenched. There are piles of ice storm debris to attend to, but getting to them leaves deep footprints, where miniature lakes form, not in the shape of Italy’s boot, but in Oregon’s mud-and-moss-encrusted hiking shoe. And so that work waits — or, rather, the worker waits, while the debris does what […]
William Michaelian 