Poetry, notes, and drawings by William Michaelian
There are many rooms, many many breaths, to go through before the crying stops.After the voices are gone sometimes their silence hurts us so; sometimes it's their words that hurt. Beautiful, William, and sad - like laying down in a vast silence, to sleep, to wake up.
Andreas, I appreciate your lovely interpretation and response. Thank you.
I love the title of this piece!Thanks for your words of encouragement:)
Enjoyed…. Especially thinking of melting snow. Sad.
Thanks, Nikki. I’m really enjoying your work.Thanks, Anthony. Interesting, because initially I was thinking in terms of its arrival. Meaning accumulates like snow.
life and deathvastand time, a fooli find when i read your poems i read as though these few words are a series of pebbles i hold in my hand, trying to determine their weight, their being. while i don't always know, it is an enjoyable experience.xoerin
Thanks, Erin. And it should be. At least I think so, and I like when it is.Words as pebblespebbles as poemsa hand as bigas the land
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