Moment and Breath
Moment by moment, breath by breath, may I live consciously, not by habit or rote. And when I grow tired, may I still be inspired to forget the last thing I wrote. . [ 1602 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Memory’
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 […]
I Do This
Between what I can do and what I can’t, Is a lifetime of what I did and what I didn’t, when I could. Now I do this, without wondering if I should, if it’s bad, or if it’s good. I do this, tho’ the doing’s hardly doing, and the done is never done. I do this, ’cause the doer’s here to do it, Tho’ ’times it seems he’s gone. . […]
Differently
When someone near remembers what you remember differently ripens the fruit ends the year billows the sail brings the old ship home . [ 1569 ]
The Reckoning
When the river’s low and seems lazy and unconcerned, Memory’s a winding path through the old cottonwoods on the floodplain. Come back in spring. Be here for the reckoning. . [ 1564 ]
As If the Time Has Come
My memory’s not what it used to be. There’s more room inside it now, As if the time has come For something new to grow. . [ 1553 ]
Smoke
the wind scours the eaves and here’s the pipe my uncle smoked before he was killed in the war . [ 1551 ]
Recital Time
A perfect acorn. Twice ’round the block on a bike. A spin through the old piano lessons. Recital time. Notes a blur. No heartbeat alike. . [ 1539 ]
Nothing Easier
The shedding birch catkins have attracted the bushtits. Brief as it was, theirs was a joyous visit this morning. Music by the pound. There must be at least forty pounds’ worth in the plastic tub — lesson books, sheet music, and various bound collections. I took out a few — a book of scales in my old piano teacher’s hand, complete with fingering; two books for new beginners; and books […]
Accidental
A few chords on the piano, smooth the keys to my hand. Bare feet on the pedals. How many years has it been? A crate of old music. The wind. Shall I try to play again? August 22, 2022. Late Afternoon. . [ 1528 ]
William Michaelian 