The hush of a forest. The sanctity of an old cathedral. A freeway through the graveyard of an unknown people. And here is the place where Love buried her sweet shy kitten. See the neon epitaph — Even grief wears a mask — As bright grows the sky where it’s bitten. [ 836 ]
A bumblebee asleep on a flower dreams of the last time he danced. August 9, 2020 Bouquet Dahlia buds every which way all pointing homeward and then you say here my love Recently Banned Literature, September 26, 2016 [ 833 ]
It must be difficult for a flag-waver, virus-spreader, and bigot to imagine himself on a long journey in the hold of a disease-infested seafaring kettle, and emerging later to stand on the auction block; it must be difficult for him, or her, to imagine the lash of the whip, the iron ring, or passing even one day as a slave in the fields. But once he does — for I […]
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 […]
William Michaelian 