William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Tag Archive for ‘Stars’

Upon Waking

It isn’t a matter of using the day, but of finding a way to express one’s gratitude. Or it might be a matter of finding one’s gratitude and expressing the way. * Junco bathing in a puddle — sunlight-celebration. * Death is the poet’s last poem. Life is the page it’s written on. * The body ages like a star. The mind is its light, seen from afar. * Joy […]

Continue Reading →

From the Flower

A falling star — a petal bright, from the flower. * Some books I leave open, so that during daylight hours, I can read a few lines from them in passing. Diaries, journals, letters, poetry, too — and it’s all poetry, beginning with the light coming in through the window. Or call it pollen, or honey, because the words coat the wings, and sweeten the tongue. * How many things […]

Continue Reading →

Children of the Precipice

Children of the Precipice, it’s time for authenticity, not pose. * To heal a part, you must love the whole. * As a participant in this beautiful immensity, I don’t feel insignificant, I feel fortunate. With each breath, I’m as near as the apple and worm, and as far as the most distant star. We’re intimately related and uniformly blessed, part of the same miracle. . [ 1661 ]

Continue Reading →

Star Light, Star Bright

A picture of a mountain isn’t a mountain. So with a river, a flower, and those we hate and love. Memory, too, is a kind of picture, as are words. The word mountain isn’t a mountain. But to show each other our pictures, we climb mountains and mountains of words. The memory of something that happened isn’t the happening. Maybe that’s one reason we keep fighting wars. Genocide in books […]

Continue Reading →