William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘I’m Telling You All I Know’

The Man Who Lost His Head

The Man Who Lost His Head Notebook Illustration I’m Telling You All I Know June 1, 2009   “When our kids were small, my wife and I used to read them a delightful book from the library called The Man Who Lost His Head. Published in 1942, the story was written by Claire Huchet Bishop and masterfully illustrated by Robert McCloskey. It’s about a man who has lost his head, […]

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The Books by My Bed

This is a very old poem, from a lost, undated manuscript, which was later typed on my old Royal and also lost, or likely discarded. Earlier today I found I’d included it in an entry of One Hand Clapping, the lines divided by slashes. It’s a curiosity at best. As no other record exists, I’ll file it here for gentle guests and future laughs. March 29, 2020   The Books […]

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My Father’s Shoes

My Father's Shoes

I will never consider myself educated; the idea is laughable; and if the time ever comes that I honestly can, it will likely be too late to serve much purpose. As it is, I’m not even sure I know what I know, my life being the dream that it is. I confess a school boy’s understanding of the alphabet; and I’m fairly certain that if I go at it slowly […]

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One Hand Clapping — October 16, 2004

This is one of 730 entries that make up the daily journal and massive doorstop, One Hand Clapping. Each entry was published the day it was written on my first website, I’m Telling You All I Know. In that online version, the book was divided into pages by month. Atop each page was the following statement: The purpose of this daily journal is to see if I can find a […]

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I’m Telling You All I Know

Story #4, Among the Living and Other Stories, 2000   Until last week, when things were finally settled, I spent all of my spare time riding in the elevator at the Sage-O’Brien Building. Twenty-seven floors, long halls, bad paintings, short, generic carpet, hundreds of offices, doors closed, documents, filing cabinets, cubicles, shoulder-high partitions, stacking desk trays, bulletin boards, pagers, call-waiting, voice mail, e-mail, www-dot-giveusyourmoney-dot-com, the smell of perfume, the smell […]

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Now You’re Home

In 2005 I was still using my first computer — a desktop model with an expansive, very comfortable keyboard and a massive, heavy tower with two floppy drives. I bought it in 1993. A 486, it had a 340-megabyte hard drive, 12 megabytes of RAM, and ran Windows 3.1 at an impressive clock-doubled 50 megahertz. I called it “The Workhorse.” Almost as good as my old Royal typewriter, it was, […]

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Ghost and Cathedral

As I look over them now, I think most of the old Notebook entries from my first website, I’m Telling You All I Know, are better off left unread. But a few, like “Ghost and Cathedral,” and the piece I added earlier this year in August, are worth preserving. Already more than nine years old, I might have written it yesterday, so accurate it remains, and so dear the memory. […]

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Friends

This poem, too, was written about twenty years ago. If I still have the original typescript, it’s in a crate in one of our closets. Sometime after it appeared on my first website, I’m Telling You All I Know, it was noticed by a writer in France, who took it upon herself to translate the poem into French. “Friends” also appeared in a little magazine called The Synergyst.   Friends […]

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Fall

Fall

For each of the twelve hundred pages in my first website, I’m Telling You All I Know (2001-2011), I made a little drawing, occasionally in ink, but almost always with a school pencil, after which I scanned it into the computer and added it manually to the HTML page. Then I uploaded the page to the host server. Without exception, the drawing was done after the writing. The pages were […]

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Pigeons Are Old Poems

Empty barns, dry grass by the door. A house once here, Not here anymore. And yet pigeons are old poems, of that I am sure. Pigeons, and grave stones, where once there were words.   Who knows the dreams that lie here buried? About a mile down the road from the house where I grew up, there is a little cemetery situated on a corner knoll where the soil is […]

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