Saturday, December 5, 2009

A tree, a hand, a waterfall


A tree, a hand, a waterfall. The night sky, fire, a child’s worn out shoe. A grain of salt, a breeze, and a stiff paint brush. A painted hand, a stiff tree, a firefall, a child’s worn out grain of salt, a night breeze, a brushed sky. A worn out hand, a salty shoe, a child’s stiff fire, a falling tree, a painted nightgrain, and a brushed wet breeze. In the worn out night sky, a salty hand paints a child’s burning tree with a stiff shoe in the grainy breeze beside a falling waterbrush. Yes, I can see it all quite clearly. Maybe that’s my problem.

Entry from One Hand Clapping, dated December 12, 2004.


Recently Linked: My thanks to abutresonoros for signing on as a follower of Recently Banned Literature. You can visit his blog of the same name here.

Update:
In the Forum: up the down staircase.

12 comments:

Joseph Hutchison said...

I'm ashamed to say I've never dropped by One Hand Clapping. You know how I feel about reading on screen. But in small bites ... what a treat! This one is especially luminous, though I don't know why. It builds the way Blaise Cendrars' best poems do—each detail somehow casting light on those around it. For me the last sentence resonates like James Wright's "I have wasted my life." Wonderful!

William Michaelian said...

Ah, yes, he wields a delightful sledge hammer. Thanks. And in OHC, you’ve stumbled onto another future volume of my Press Series. Just let me chop down a few more trees....

Joseph Hutchison said...

I'll be wasting a few pines myself via Lulu, I think. A long out of print collection the publisher never saw fit to put out in paperback. All us poets with our books do make a "Song of the Broad Axe," don't we? Ironic that now we can read Whitman's poem on screen. It's pretty terrible, but has some wonderful lines:

—Spar-makers in the spar-yard, the swarming row of well-grown apprentices,
The swing of their axes on the square-hew’d log, shaping it toward the shape of a mast,
The brisk short crackle of the steel driven slantingly into the pine,
The butter-color’d chips flying off in great flakes and slivers...

So really, y'see, we partake of that pioneer heroism. Don't we?

William Michaelian said...

Absolutely! Windbags plying the Cosmos, we take turns filling the sail...

ALeks said...

Weheeheehehheee....will ya make a book of these little juwels I find along my walk trough your coment boxes?
I would realy like to be able to just sit around you clever people,smoke a cigar or two(for the oak table face,:O))( And I do not smoke at all),to laugh long and outloud and it would be in the summer under te figtree with my father and brother there with us! Nice dream,only I did not ask you if its Ok to dream of you brilliant writers.
Good day to ya all,
Aleksandra

William Michaelian said...

Wonderful dream! These comment boxes might seem small, but for those blessed with an imagination, they change shape like clouds.

ALeks said...

:O)clouds like coments....

ALeks said...

Comments, grrr....

Elisabeth said...

Such a wonderful journey through words and I too imagine that I can see it. So maybe we both have a problem but you invented these words and associations. I only read them and associated further.

William Michaelian said...

For which I’m grateful. And it just occurred to me that with the right kind of artwork, this entry could make a nice little pop-up or fold-out book....

Nazia Mallick said...

William. I have been reading your journal, and I am at the September 2003 entries today.

Reading these entries feels like a day book of comfort, despite the many emotions that simmer quietly under the words and some of them tell me a whole new story within themselves.
The brevity in your poems and generosity in your prose, both are a delight to read.
This is the kind of journal I would love to take to bed with me, keep it on my bedside table and just pick it up, and open the pages randomly.

William Michaelian said...

Nazia, that’s wonderful of you to say. Thanks. I tend to look at the journal the same way, as a sort of bedside reader. I wrote it and lived it, but in an odd way I’ve become another reader. And so I’m looking forward to the print edition. Somewhere in the book, I think I refer to it as a “literary doorstop.” So it’s bound to be useful in more than one dimension.

Thanks again. It means a great deal to me to know that you are reading.