Is it possible the mystery seedling in our vast little wilderness has yet to decide what kind of tree it is? That’s something I haven’t thought of before. Even if it began its life as a silk tree, maybe its desire to change is so strong that, given time, and possibly even encouragement, it will become something else. Who knows what it might have thought about or dreamed about during […]
We hear it said that words are symbols, as if in a sense they were lined up on one side, with reality on the other, and us in between — dirty things tainted by their own meanings, useful as a daily sort of common currency, but basically crippled as a means of expressing life in its great profundity and mystery, which are best trusted to silence. This is very much […]
Is it a peach, or love out of reach? While the ladder grows roots, A bird makes holes in the fruit. [ 818 ]
What grew here before this became part of a city? What lived here? Who lived here? How did they live? How do I live? Does my life honor what was lost or destroyed? To put it another way, do I live for profit, or for love? July 21, 2020. Evening. [ 812 ]
How long has it been since I’ve felt a sense of belonging to any particular country? When I was fifteen, though I’d yet to fully work it out in my mind, the notion had already struck me as folly; and to this day, it seems that one’s conscious presence in this world is too great a miracle to waste on such a rude concept as nations, with their ideologies, flags, […]
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 […]
Back again early this morning to Goose Lake and environs, where the fading wildflowers and drying grass are among the first signs of summer. Even without rain, the lake itself seems not to recede, its waters sealed tight beneath a heavy layer of algae and scum. All that’s heard is the deep bellowing of a bullfrog, his voice as loud as any dock worker or boatman. A humid atmosphere, the […]
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 […]
Even after a thorough washing, the fingertips of my left hand wear the strong scent of marigolds — this from having plucked three mostly dried blooms from their plants. On each side of the marigolds, we have lobelia in two clay pots. The pots and the marigolds are on an old mossy concrete bench. The bench looks like it belongs in a cemetery. Bees love the lobelia. The lobelia love […]
The ego wants a safe place, and plants a thousand flags. But the spirit — oh, the spirit, has wings. We were married in January 1976. Our first summer, we had sweet peas that flowered to the top of the fence. Today we have some in a vase. And through the open window drifts love’s fragrance. A bright-yellow tanager sits high atop an open sunflower; a fuzzy black-and-yellow bee lights […]
William Michaelian 