Low Tide
A fine school of words, and the fishermen asleep at their nets. . [ 1668 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Meaning’
Winter Birds
Look at them. Some are so small, they seem only feathers and a heartbeat. And though we’re made differently, we’re made of the same things, and share the same breath. To me, this isn’t just poetry, religion, or science. It’s miraculous, inspiring, intimate. Thank goodness I don’t need to prove its significance, or tell you what it means. You already know we’re here to love each other, ourselves, and all […]
Your Answer
What do they mean? Do you ever ask the words themselves? Or do you expect them to do as you tell them? If they were your children, would you demand their rigid compliance, or would you give them the freedom and space they need to blossom? Your answer reveals the kind if writer, speaker, thinker, dreamer you are. If you’re sure the words you use are at your command, then […]
Scratches
Sometimes I look at the last scratch and think this is no way to end, and then I scratch, and scratch, and scratch again. Sometimes I look and think this is the perfect way to end, and then I scratch, and scratch, and scratch again. Sometimes I look and I do end, only to find myself scratching again. And then I look at them. I look at them, and think […]
Star Light, Star Bright
A picture of a mountain isn’t a mountain. So with a river, a flower, and those we hate and love. Memory, too, is a kind of picture, as are words. The word mountain isn’t a mountain. But to show each other our pictures, we climb mountains and mountains of words. The memory of something that happened isn’t the happening. Maybe that’s one reason we keep fighting wars. Genocide in books […]
A Happening
Tree, bird, rock, child — if things were their names, Life wouldn’t be a happening, it would be an encyclopedia. . [ 1567 ]
In Other Words
We meet each other in different languages, even when we write and speak the same. What we read and say and hear, is who we are and who we’ve been. What we mean, or what we think or hope we mean, matters less than listening, with love. . [ 1562 ]
Belief
A hammer, a chisel, and a deep, dusty mark where the paper bleeds. . [ 1541 ]
Cricket in the Rhododendron
I used to have a printer, and reams of paper on hand. Envelopes and postage stamps. Now I have a cricket in the rhododendron. I have the things I’ve said, and what I thought they meant. But only as I do or don’t remember them. A closet full of books I no longer need or wear. The coat that fit me when I had short beard and hair. Dust enough […]
Juniper Tales
Yesterday I saw a hummingbird visit a small spider that had made its web in the juniper, about fifteen feet above the ground. Twice it appeared to touch the spider with its long beak, and each time it did so, the spider held perfectly still. Then, when the hummingbird zipped away, the spider moved to the tip of the nearest branch. It’s hard to know exactly what happened. The hummingbird […]
William Michaelian 