Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Thinking of St. John’s


Summer, as if I were a dry riverbed

              that remembers the rain,

                             or the dust on your face

                      and hands.


(first publication)


Updates:
“Thinking of St. John’s” added to Poems, Slightly Used.
In the Forum: Spurtz, Dartz, and Mertz.

9 comments:

all ways 11 o'clock said...

William - ...and I picture
a small wind storm, people working the arid soil. A man looks up, his face streaked with sweat rivulets.

I like coming here for your poems and drawings. Allways you paint a picture for me.

Thank you.

~robert

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Robert. Sweat and arid ground in this image, but yours is a rich, fertile mind.

Janice said...

As I read your words my mind drew a sketch of the worn out farmers from the dust bowl era. Everything turning to dust even the dust itself becoming a finer grain blowing with the slightest breeze. Dried up wells and riverbeds their cracked and arid dirt a reflection of human skin that has been out in the hot summer sun to long...

I need a tall glass of iced tea right now but I love how you get my thoughts stirred up William :)

nouvelles couleurs - vienna atelier said...

poignant ...

William Michaelian said...

Janice, your beautiful interpretation has me wanting ice tea too. I love where you and Robert are going with this.

Thank you, Laura. As you know, there are those times when memory, nature, and emotion are one, as if they are a kind of flower.

-K- said...

As is usually the case, I really enjoyed what you wrote in your bio ("About"). As you say, the ease and immediacy of blogs never ceases to amaze me.

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Kevin. I love it. And as proof of that immediacy, let me add that I also loved watering our squash, peppers, and eggplant this morning, which are finally coming to life with the (somewhat) warmer weather we’re having. The tomatoes, though, are still lagging behind. I might have to raid yours some night when you’re out taking those magical pictures of yours. After all, what’s a thousand miles between friends?

Woman in a Window said...

mmmm~
images
drawn so easily
in so few words
and yet
the dust,
it remains.

xo
erin

William Michaelian said...

Erin, that dust, once in my lungs, is now in my bones.