Blessed to forget the rest — why, I wonder, do so many of my phrases read like epitaphs? And these stock words and images: who can count the number of times I’ve written the word peach, joy, waterfall, or blessing? Surely this means something, as do multiple allusions to madness, which seem almost to signify some kind of code, or shortcut way of proclaiming I am one with the universe, […]
This time of year, in the dark, cavernous space behind North Falls, one must shout to be heard — such is the thunder generated by the water landing on the rocks below. But shout about what? Oddly enough, we met a raven there and stood within three feet of the bird, which, if my interpretation was correct, was amused by our presence. A hundred feet farther along the trail, we […]
Back to the falls. The sun was shining in the hills above the fog. The maples in the canyon are glowing yellow. The trees still have most of their leaves, and are releasing them one by one like butterflies. Few hikers were out, most of them in their sixties and seventies. On the path below North Falls, one man we met looked at my beard and said with a smile, […]
Washed away at our meeting — in the waterfall, none of us have names. . [ 1810 ]
We threw our words overboard, only to find that they’d become anchors, and that our ship wouldn’t move; then they became fish: we cast a great net: around it they swam, and through; they leap’d to the heavens, were shimmering stars in the blue; then one by one they fell; they’re falling still; and each that lands is true. . [ 1801 ]
Listen — even this low, the stream above North Falls sings of abundance. . [ 1582 ]
Another early-morning skunk visit: when I opened our front door at four, our fluffy friend was passing by. When I went out at four-thirty to run, its scent was strong in the air. When I returned, the scent was gone — which is to say, it had become part of the breathable atmosphere we all share, thus making us part skunk. Stardust and skunk. Roses, too. Violence and intelligence do […]
William Michaelian 