When I refer to my body as it, I feel I am being unfair. But would him be any more accurate? Would her? And why my, when, if there is any belonging at all, the belonging belongs to the earth? January 5, 2022 . And Here Is a Child I love, too, those thoughts that almost rise, almost begin, then vanish, content to seek no substance or body, and whose […]
Is this really a certain day, of a certain month, in a certain year? Perhaps, if that is what one believes. And yet, it has been shown that one can, and will, believe anything — for instance, that peace and joy are a destination that can be arrived at through the intellect, when it is clear that those who choose to do battle on those grounds wear themselves out searching, […]
One last shovel-turning of the worm-full garden space and on into winter — accompanied by this thought: maybe the time has come to write less, and dig more. December 3, 2021 . [ 1308 ]
Which is the greater fallacy — that we can know what is coming, or that we can be prepared? * For the latest news, see the cutting room floor. * Nothing dies. In its own time and at its own pace, everything becomes something else — the leaf, the cloud, the body, the star, the stone. What we see is a graceful dance and fleeting references to energy. * We […]
Goose Lake. A dense fog, the cottonwoods dripping, the oaks, the cherries, the brambles, the berries. For the first time in a year we are able to walk to the water’s edge. This end of the lake is very shallow and full of decaying lilies, between which can be seen the mossy bottom just inches below. Quiet. Few birds are out, and none are chattering or calling from the immediate […]
I didn’t learn to type in school. With the help of a book from the public library, I taught myself when I was in my early thirties. Prior to that, I used the time-honored hunt-and-peck system. I’m a fair typist, not a good one. I can type these lines without looking at the keys. But if I need to incorporate numbers, I have to look down. Once many years ago, […]
Near the receding edge of lily-infested Goose Lake, in the brambly shadows just beyond the dense growth of Wapato now in flower, there’s a casual assemblage of Bittersweet nightshade. The shoreline, such as it is, and visible nowhere, has retreated about forty feet — normal for the time of year — at this one remaining place of access. On the far side, seen through one gap, is another colony of […]
I know nothing of heroism, bravery, or courage. I simply try to do what’s called for or needed. To do that, I must recognize that need. And the need is always present; it arises anew each and every moment. So I, too, must be present. And I can’t be present if I’m chasing half-truths and recycled thoughts, or laboring in defense of my own self-made legend. I might rescue someone […]
There was a little rain yesterday, and some again last night. At six this morning I swept the driveway. Then I swept the sidewalk, which was covered with a nice accumulation of fine needle growth from the juniper. The sidewalk, being mostly shaded most of the time, is quite mossy. It’s also in fairly rough shape, with pits and divots where stones have worked their way free from the concrete. […]
Whatever we anticipate, whatever we dread or desire — good, bad, peace, strife, difficulty, ease, agitation, calm — might or might not come to pass. We can, in other words, be floating on a cloud or tied in knots by something that doesn’t exist. And when we’re caught up in this state, what do we miss? Everything — even this: a tiny bird, drinking rainwater from an ivy leaf. June […]
William Michaelian 