William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Snow’

Gray October

Our garden space is small, but this year we were still able to give away dozens and dozens of cucumbers and many baskets of cherry tomatoes. Now the garden is on the wane, with a tomato here, a cucumber there, and as many sunflower seeds as the birds can hold and the squirrels can tuck away. Whole heads, their spiny necks broken, jays squawking, squirrels chattering and scolding — we […]

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Halls Within Halls

Tongue-tied twice by strange dreams, the details of which I scarcely remember, the second ending with my awkward, labored flight about twenty feet above a sidewalk past snowy steps leading to the door of a three-story brick building while in search of the other entrance — the place was familiar: it contained halls within halls within halls — I knew that much, but nothing more, the structure yet to make […]

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Hyacinths and Biscuits

Of the many wonderful things written and said by Carl Sandburg, there is one that often springs to mind which never goes out of fashion: Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits. Starlings are sunshine birds. They know how the light plays on their feathers. A layer of snow and ice: first at the feeder this morning were the juncos. A walk before sunrise, every step accompanied by a […]

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Snow Day

The icy granite leaves             * no doubt                         * you wonder                                     * about your consciousness                                     * and how it came to be                         * this eternal             * fragile * thing * with wings             * * January 27, 2021 . [ 1005 ]

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Snow Lessons

Your face is calendar enough for me, the lines, the seasons — what need of dates, where light and touch and grace agree? January 1, 2021 . Snow Lessons To write with the breath, to draw without touching a thing. Are these not snow lessons, and the patient teachings of steam? You say, This pen. This page. These keys. How can I not touch them? And from deep inside comes […]

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A Child’s Christmas

A great many years ago, my mother accidentally dropped a copy of The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám out of the library window. About thirty years later, I saw it on my brother’s bookshelf. She’d inscribed it to him as a gift! . A Child’s Christmas Whence this peace falling into this upturned palm? . [ 970 ]

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