Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Gray


I gave her a leaf. It had turned gray in my hand;
but it was a lovely gray — a gray with veins,
a gray of ten thousand subtle shades,
a gray inside gray still becoming gray,
a deep gray well in which gray voices
echoed the glad gray eternity of our names.



“Canvas 269”
June 27, 2011

[click to enlarge]



Passage from “Gray,” first published here and in Poems, Slightly Used.



13 comments:

Transcend Designs said...

Nice....


: )

Maggie said...

I have always been quite partial to gray.

William Michaelian said...

Hello, Brad. Thank you, kind sir.

I think for some of us, Maggie, gray is a way of life.

erin said...

oh, it all feels fine, just fine in here.

xo
erin

William Michaelian said...

Erin: even more so now.

Wine and Words said...

:) I just wrote something of the blend-all color of gray...speaking of a concrete city. Now I might rethink...I might look at it as beautiful, though it'll be a stretch.

William Michaelian said...

Keep looking, Annie. Gray is perfect for the coming and going of restless spirits — in a city, and here in my workroom.

Aleksandra said...

Oh how gorgeous! I was turning the grape leaves today to see what is eating them and `it` was gray....

William Michaelian said...

Maybe it’s a stubborn gray-worm, about to give birth to a cloud.

Two Tigers said...

We do gray a disservice I think, assigning it connotations that are at best indeterminate and at worst ominous. Gray is so much more than an indecision point between black and white. It can be warm and comforting like flannel or fine and inviting as a coating of dust you trace with a fingertip. It has so many faces - one of which appears above, and proves my point.

William Michaelian said...

Gabriella, thank you. I do believe in gray, and to me it has always been a subtle, faithful companion. And I think that’s why the word, too, is so dear to me. I almost always wear black or very dark gray, or a combination thereof. I don’t feel right in other colors. And of course like any other color, gray is not simply gray; I think, rather, that it has the power to coax dreams and confessions out of rainbows.

Two Tigers said...

Oh William, what a lovely idea that gray would be the one all the colors of the rainbow would trust to tell their secrets to! It makes perfect sense. And it makes poetry too.

William Michaelian said...

That it does. And my natural response to this is, “Let’s write a children’s book.”