The mail was late yesterday, but among the usual junk was a package containing two books from the Library of America — one being the volume by Henry James mentioned recently, Collected Travel Writings: The Continent; the other a collection of early work by Gertrude Stein, Writings: 1903-1932. And so the stacks grow a little higher and a little deeper. . I slept remarkably well last night, and woke up […]
What it comes down to, I suppose, is that most, if not all, of my behavior is neurotic. How could it be otherwise? I’m assaulted by the news of killings every day, of mass shootings and war; I’m exposed to incessant, unscrupulous advertising, noise, and to flashing, brightly lit screens; outdoors, I walk on concrete and asphalt, indoors on artificial flooring; I drive a car; I harvest most of my […]
A clear, starry morning, temperature under fifty degrees. Planets visible: Venus, Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn. Earth, too, was visible. We speak of setting foot on the moon, or Mars, as if doing so would be more wonderful than setting foot on the earth, as if the earth itself is passé, and we’re bored by something we can and must do every day. But if we feel this way about the earth, […]
The moon, hidden by a bright, sprawling cloud — an illuminated island, complete with inlets and shore, a drifting, conscious continent. Yesterday evening, and into the early morning hours, there was a very active thunderstorm. What was left of the day’s heat was quickly washed away, the air sweetened with rain mixed with small hail. The crickets became lightning bugs. At one point we heard laughter in the street; this […]
Met with no traffic during this morning’s run through the neighborhood. Back in the house before four-thirty. A starry sky, with a bright, waning, super-blue moon. Air clean and free of wildfire smoke. Spanish. Read a page of Juan Valera’s Pepita Jiménez. Italian. Read a passage from a translation of Homer’s Iliad. How much of effort is really the reaffirmation of one’s ego-identity? Axe, muscle, gravity. But when I chop […]
August, owl, moon. Light, fall, soon. Fall lightly, call brightly. August, owl, moon. Call lightly, fall brightly. August, owl, moon. . [ 1812 ]
We share the sun, the moon, the stars, the grief, the joy, the wars; is it any wonder, is it kind or wise, to pray for less and beg for more? . [ 1795 ]
And then, one day, the setting moon was so bright and full, we really did change; but that was long ago — an hour or so, maybe less, maybe more. . [ 1784 ]
The full moon is like . . . we could make it anything, the copper bottom of a stainless steel pan, or an orange we glad it is what it is instead of what we imagine? . [ 1754 ]
A full, ripe moon over the wetland. Someday, maybe I will write like that. . [ 1737 ]
William Michaelian 