William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Sky’

Unnamable The

Not many days ago, and an equally uncertain number of nights, I read backward and aloud the last page of Samuel Beckett’s The Unnamable. Standing before our big front window, paced by the commas, I read the words slowly and with feeling. When I reached the top of the page, I wondered if the author might not have done the same thing himself. It’s possible he could even have written […]

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Blue Sky Cry

Health, leisure, good fortune, and very modest means. Blueberries, and other transitory things. No desire to possess or own. Catkins and birch-bits. Sunflowers. Bees. Cucumbers. The spider in my hair, taken back outside. Aware — yes, aware — there are troubles in the world. Hunger. Suffering. Violence. Greed. Pain. Wildfire. Drought. Climate change. The poses we assume. The lies we tell. The games we play. Aware — yes, aware — […]

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Skunk Detail

When I turned on the front step light at 4:30 this morning, the skunk seemed only mildly surprised. It wasn’t on the step, just a few feet beyond. It sniffed the air and peered at me through its thick glasses, then moved off into the darkness, toward the pine. Careful alert regard, mutual curiosity — I’ve known friendships to begin this way. Another way is the wondrous miracle of instant […]

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Funny Little Hole

Vivid blue sky and great white clouds — not too warm for an afternoon walk, but far too bright without the shade of a wide-brimmed straw hat; temporarily blinded, though, by a stretch of new sidewalk. An impromptu soup of garlic, onion, purple kale, potato (one of which was baked yesterday, the other raw) and white kidney beans (cannellini, it says on the can); olive oil; salt; pepper; a generous […]

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Timeless Trivia

Thirty-seven degrees. A snow sky. Vegetable plants in the garden shops. The heart leaps, a bird peeps, returns to its fir needle bed. I wish I had written that. And the life that led to it? Do you wish you had lived that as well? A fondness for quoting Jesus — but crucifixion is something else. A crown of thorns. Nails through the palms. Snow in April? Isn’t that unusual? […]

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Ten Horses, No Sails

I haven’t raked the leaves from under the maples, or those that are piled deep beneath the big rhododendron by the front door. What’s living in, on, and under them plays a far more important role in the local ecology than any so-called neatness I might achieve. The walk is swept. The flowerbed is ready for spring. That’s enough tidiness. Behind the house, the irises are pushing, and an abundance […]

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