William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Meaning’

Pause

The big rhododendron by the front door’s in full bloom. Each bud, when open, holds about a dozen flowers. It would be meaningless to say they’re red — just as it would be meaningless to say that this is the first day of June. What I hope will not be meaningless, tho’ it matters not one way or the other, is that I’ll be stepping away from my online publishing […]

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Borne by the Bier

Sweet sleep, for we might say sleep is that from which we arise, to emerge at birth and find ourselves astonished by the light; and then, at the appointed time, that to which we return, ripe and ready for the next miracle. Sweet, for how could it not be? — as sweet as the sleep of the child one was, is, and will become — sweet as the dew on […]

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Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet

Yesterday evening, I thought of a good name for the next phase of writing: Sweet Sleep and Bare Feet. To me it sounds, seems, and feels like it means, or can come to mean, a great deal, very much like the moment one gives, or is given, a flower or smile. In that light, I have restored the social media capabilities that are part of this publishing platform. And now […]

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Be Here Now

If whatever I write, or draw, or make, or do, is to be fresh and new, and not simply more of the same, however pleasant and comfortable that same may seem, must I not make sure that I am myself fresh and new? Must I not be my own peaceful revolution, and free of my usual thought pattern, with all its familiar repetition and redundancy? Must I not be willing […]

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We Might Say

Shall we examine our illnesses, and give them truer, more meaningful names, such as The North Wind, The Reminder, and The Teacher? Then we might say, I am visited by The North Wind, or, I am thankful for The Reminder. We might say, I learned great things from The Teacher. I have The Mystery. I do not fear The End. . [ 1329 ]

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To End and Begin

Everything I write is meant for an audience of one. I address no group, large or small, and I don’t spray my words scattershot with the idea that if I aim high enough, they’re sure to hit someone. No, I’m still the farm boy I’ve always been, with a homemade slingshot and the nearest clod. And if you happen to be the one I clobber, I apologize. In person, I’m […]

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How, of a Morninge

Goose Lake. A dense fog, the cottonwoods dripping, the oaks, the cherries, the brambles, the berries. For the first time in a year we are able to walk to the water’s edge. This end of the lake is very shallow and full of decaying lilies, between which can be seen the mossy bottom just inches below. Quiet. Few birds are out, and none are chattering or calling from the immediate […]

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Apology

Words are shadows cast by meaning.My intent? Aye, there’s the rub. The sun is understanding:it leaves me blind, strands me in the wood. Recently Banned Literature, December 18, 2012 . [ 1257 ]

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Dry as Dust

A short dream: Without questioning its odd location, I realize that the bookshelf outside on our front step would be more useful inside. There are only a few books on it, while in the house there are enough scattered and stacked about to fill it and more. What strikes me most, though, is the near absence of dust. Why is there so much more dust on the other shelves inside, […]

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