William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Peaches’

Country Life

He’s kissing a girl who’s been packing peaches, elbow-deep in fuzz. She’s damp with sweat and has tired breath — it’s hot and the hours are long. In the house, the old farmer almost sleeps through lunch. His wife watches through the window — she knows the boy — but of course it’s his parents she really knows. And anyway, it’s not her daughter, the pretty girl from town, just […]

Continue Reading →

Windfall

When one lives a simple life, is there a need to impose order? Doesn’t disorder arise from wanting what isn’t needed, and by following what’s traditionally accepted as the right way of doing things — doing what we are expected to do, buying what we are expected to buy, believing what we are expected to believe — without examining their wide-ranging, murderous implications? Observe an angry, disordered household, and see […]

Continue Reading →

And You Will Be Blessed

Somewhere, in this very moment, there is a peach ripening, and somehow it will find you and drive you mad. And you will be blessed to forget the rest, everything you have thought, and done, and feared, and said. If this seems a riddle, it is. If you prefer strawberries, go right ahead. That is where joy comes in. It is like standing in a waterfall while receiving guests. Come […]

Continue Reading →