William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Haibun’

Without Looking Down

Yesterday afternoon I saw a great brown hawk, perhaps three hundred feet from the ground, standing on air, facing a cold spring wind, with its wings open wide. When he allowed it to take him, even eternity was surprised. Dark gray clouds. Rain. Clear blue sky. While I was out, I could not always see him, but I could hear his cries. A storm in the pine: two startled mourning […]

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Strawberry Leaves

It’s good to need a coat again. It’s good to have a coat, and a faithful wool cap to lift from off its summer pedestal of old books by the door. It’s good to walk in the clear frosty air. It’s good to be out with the young moon, and Mars, and Saturn, and Jupiter. It’s good to hear the sound of geese honking overhead, and in the nearby wetland. […]

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Nicotine

Many years ago, in our old hometown, there was a Japanese man in his nineties who had smoked cigarettes all of his adult life and loved smoking them still, all with no apparent harm to his health. There are people like that, people who can live on terrible, unhealthy diets, or who can consume alcohol in amounts that would make others ill, and yet thrive. As the story goes, with […]

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Old Grandpa Moon

The poet who worries about not being read forgets one thing: his face accompanies him everywhere. moonlight on the vine and the sweet grapes left behind by that old raccoon . Old Grandpa Moon The whole great countryside was asleep. The night was clear and cold, and the stars were winking above the farmhouses and fields. But inside an old stone cottage, there was one little boy who could not […]

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The News

The news is a mass addiction. Every minute of every day, millions of people return to it, in quiet desperation, in anger, in distraction, for another dose, another fix. It’s a form of collective hysteria, this thirst and hunger for the negative and obvious, this fear of not knowing what is already known, and which represents only a tiny portion of what it means to be alive in this wondrous […]

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Breathless

Summer one day, spring the next. The sky wondering which clothes to wear. Gray, blue, none but the pollen in her hair. on an old clay pot a bee waits just long enough for me to catch up May 30, 2020 [ 764 ]

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Low Tide

It’s easy to say, I want the best for everyone and everything, but it’s quite plain to me I don’t know what that best is. Lovely birch — her paper bark — no need for a pen today. [ 728 ]

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Writing About Cherry Blossoms

Yesterday morning we drove past the cherry trees in the park across from the state capitol. Given the chilly weather lately — there was even some snow on the ground in the hilly areas around town — it will be many days yet before they are at the peak of their bloom. I was out this morning at the first hint of light, walking in an icy wind. I thought […]

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