Fire and Rain
Steady rain. Wildfire season in this part of the world is over. But humanfire rages on. . [ 1606 ]
Tag Archive for ‘Wildfires’
Weather Report
I burn with the forests. And when I emerge in spring, I’m listening. . [ 1591 ]
Navigation
It’s been some time since we’ve seen the stars. First the smoke, now the clouds. But there are other ways to set our course. With smiles, thanks, and bows. . [ 1555 ]
P.S.
Dawn. An orange, smoky sky. When the world ends, won’t you come to see me by and by? . [ 1548 ]
The Mask
Warm, cloudy, humid. Fires east, fires south. And here I am, recognizing once again the sheer luxury it is to be able, for so long, to pursue my tiny line of thinking — to read my books, to write my notes and poems and then pretend them to the world — for pretending and publishing are much alike — tho’ the mask I wear is nearly identical to what it’s […]
Blue Sky Cry
Health, leisure, good fortune, and very modest means. Blueberries, and other transitory things. No desire to possess or own. Catkins and birch-bits. Sunflowers. Bees. Cucumbers. The spider in my hair, taken back outside. Aware — yes, aware — there are troubles in the world. Hunger. Suffering. Violence. Greed. Pain. Wildfire. Drought. Climate change. The poses we assume. The lies we tell. The games we play. Aware — yes, aware — […]
Twenty-First Century Loaves and Fishes
Extreme heat. Wildfires. Smoke. Clouds. Lightning strikes. Add one vast ocean. Mix thoroughly until the consistency of love. Hold breath. Allow to rise. Makes one infinite serving. July 31, 2022 . [ 1506 ]
Treble and Bass
Shall I spend what remains of my precious time merely agreeing or disagreeing with everyone I meet and with every piece of information that comes my way? Would this not keep me in a state of perpetual opinion, sure I am right, and therefore willfully blind? Or shall I work to remain open, and tremble and sway with life as it passes through me and around me, like the trees? […]
A Way of Life
Imagine a race of beings so in love with themselves, so jaded, so steeped in their bitterness, that they choose daily to revel in their own righteous filth. Impossible, of course. Yellowed cottonwood leaves on the trail. The trees shudder to think. Gray skies all day without a hint of blue, the smoke pushed east again for a time. Broken green husks of walnuts on the steps. Squirrels, or birds? […]
Tell Me
Smoke. But we have windows. Through and between smudges and spots, we view a tiny part of the world. Mystery. But we have knowledge. Through and between fear and belief, we view a tiny part of ourselves. September 8, 2021 . Tell Me If you cannot see the beauty, in your beard, in your body, in the brevity, abundance, or absence, of your own tender breasts; the down, or the […]
William Michaelian 