I’ve lived long enough to know that whatever I try to do is weakened by the effort. Whatever I try to say, is rendered less clear. I’ve learned that even before I begin, the doing and saying is already being done for me, and that by keeping breath in this body, life is allowing me to take part in a process as playful as it is timeless and profound. Life […]
Spring at last — the old man was a child all along. I spent most of yesterday writing that line. It isn’t much, I know, but I also walked, ran, and talked to a retired neighbor, who’s one of the friendliest, most positive people I’ve ever met. He also walks and runs. He rides a bicycle, too, and is looking forward to sunny days ahead. On the way home, I […]
Let’s speak and act in such a way that kindness is the inevitable response. * Instead of telling a child that a certain bright light in the sky is the moon, ask her what it is. Whatever she says will be true. * When you press the Publish button, do so as if you’ve just run all the way from your village to mine and arrived breathless and eager to […]
Each act a kindness, each breath a prayer, Each word a poem that finds us there. . [ 1560 ]
Warm, cloudy, humid. Fires east, fires south. And here I am, recognizing once again the sheer luxury it is to be able, for so long, to pursue my tiny line of thinking — to read my books, to write my notes and poems and then pretend them to the world — for pretending and publishing are much alike — tho’ the mask I wear is nearly identical to what it’s […]
What’s left of the moon a perfect little fingernail I remember when our baby girl was born . [ 1499 ]
The grass behind the house is on the wild side. Shaded most of the day, it stays green if left alone. No mowing, no water. Churchyard grass. Perfect for imagined goats. Pick things up, then set them down again. Sticks, leaves, stones. Rainbows. Poems. The days and nights themselves. A swarm of bushtits in the cedar. Some are upside down. What’s the world to them? Outside in. Inside out. The […]
When we set out in the cold this morning, the body said, Are we sure? We didn’t answer, of course. And when we finished our run, with our feet wet and warm, the body again said, Are we sure? We climbed the steps, let ourselves in. Took off our wet cap, dried our sandals, and propped them against the wall above the furnace vent. Coffee? we said. Gladly, was the […]
William Michaelian 