Saturday, February 7, 2015

Mist


The sweet pain of this world

and how your hand

guides the grape

by the light

of your tongue

(as a wish makes a veil makes a place makes a dawn)




4 comments:

Joseph Hutchison said...

Wonderful, William! That parenthetical at the end feels like a second voice, a listener who doesn't necessarily speak but thinks about the previous lines, and the thought becomes part of the poem. I could see a whole sequence of these. Fascinating....

William Michaelian said...

Many thanks, Joe, for your kind — and, as always — observant commentary....

Lorraine Renaud said...

I love the veil for dawn, this is so beautiful William....

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Lorraine, I’m pleased you find it so.