drop by drop on fallen leaves / music comes to a poem November 11, 2021 . Your Bird on Her Limb in the Rain Remember, when you describe something, you are really describing yourself. So be vivid. Describe well. The more clearly I see your bird on her limb in the rain, the more I will rejoice in your glorious spring. Recently Banned Literature, February 23, 2017 . [ 1285 […]
Have you crumbled soil in your hands and held it to your nose? That is just one thing a flower knows. Behold your flower body. It blooms. It fades. It grows. November 10, 2021 . [ 1284 ]
One of the blessings of memory is the opportunity it gives us to go back in our minds and apologize to those we have thoughtlessly made suffer, and promise them such a thing will never happen again. And though at first it may seem contradictory, the blessing is especially great when the person we are addressing has already passed on. When the wrong is acknowledged and the apology and pledge […]
day / life / saving / time November 7, 2021 . You, a Stone A quiet pool, and you, a stone, dropped in; Now, a leaf in the wind, changes everything. Recently Banned Literature, November 23, 2014 . [ 1281 ]
When I was born, I was given a genocide. I was also given a dear dead uncle who had killed, and been killed, in war. I was given simplicity, poverty, hunger, and joy. I was given anger and disappointment. I was given pride and competition. I was given physical and psychological pain. I was given fear. I was given honesty. I was given laughter. I was given play. I grew […]
Insects, resting on the rim of a wide blue flowerpot; a bird, eating them one by one; each is acting according to its need, until the need is no more. No greed, no poverty, no depleted resources; no waste, no alleys lined with overflowing garbage cans. Good fortune: in times of plenty, all are filled; when times are lean, all are lean. Gratitude: to be here now, in joy and […]
A few light strokes / on skin / you first / thought / was paper October 28, 2021 . [ 1272 ]
Snow in the churchyard and you giving your old black coat to a stranger frozen and still its weight on his shoulders known only to him his wings showing through his joy again Recently Banned Literature, December 26, 2013 . [ 1271 ]
I don’t remember the year. But I was quite small. The gift was a word. I’m unwrapping it still. Recently Banned Literature, December 25, 2013 . [ 1270 ]
There is a seam in my glass mug, but no hem and no zipper. What holds the two edges together? What keeps the neck from raveling? The mug is wearing a glistening pendant with transparent chain: A bead of moisture suspended, a sweet drop of rain. Her skin is the color of coffee: trembling, scented, reflective. There is conversation: memory: faded print, falling away. October 25, 2021 . [ 1268 […]
William Michaelian 