The More We Are Looking For

The word idea is extremely potent but often misunderstood because, like all words, it is so frequently and casually abused. This is sad, because we base our actions on what we think words mean, and what they come to represent in our minds, without recognizing and appreciating their power. Settling for a an approximation is not only limiting, but dangerous.

�The More We Are Looking For� also appears at Soul Food Caf�, as part of a collaborative project called the Alluvial Mine. More of my poems are featured on this Soul Food poetry page.

The More We Are Looking For

An idea is like a child.
It is not how or when it is born, but if.
An idea cannot be called forth.
It must be witnessed and set free.

If we think of an idea
as a pebble cast into a pond,
then we will realize it lives on
long after we have ceased to notice.

An idea is not a possession.
It must be followed wherever it wants to go.
An idea is not a feather in one�s cap,
or a victory, or a sign of ability.
It is a pure voice, a blessing on the wind.

When we try to name an idea,
it laughs at us and slips away.
When we try to ignore it,
it grabs us by the throat.
When we deny its existence,
it abandons us for more fertile ground.

An idea is never quite what
we think it is, or wish it would be.
It is always much, much more.
Like the silence between two thoughts,
or the hidden mass of an iceberg,
an idea is a cradle of awesome power,
a well so deep that its beginning is its end,
and its end the place where it really begins.

An idea is the creative more we are looking for,
but are often afraid to find.
It is the dream we banish in the name of sanity,
the wise and noble grief we flee,
the ancient memory of verdant sighs,
a flower fallen from Life�s sensual crown.

An idea is a golden drop of sunshine
the instant before it meets the ground.
It is the song we sing when words have failed,
the face we seek when we are born,
the home we find when we move on
and live forever, fearlessly, in the moment.

Note: Poems, Slightly Used, a growing collection of work first published in my blog, Recently Banned Literature, can be found here.

Available from Cosmopsis Books of San Francisco

Winter Poems
by William Michaelian

Winter Poems (click to view cover)

ISBN: 978-0-9796599-0-4
US $11.95; $8.95 at Cosmopsis Books
52 pages. 6x9. Paper.
Includes one drawing.
San Francisco, June 2007
Signed, numbered & illustrated copies

Winter Poems displays the skills and abilities of Mr. Michaelian at their most elemental level, at the bone. Wandering amidst a barren world, a world scraped bare, he plucks the full moon like fruit from the winter sky, goes mad and befriends a pack of hungry wolves, burns his poems to keep warm. He is a flake of snow, a frozen old man, a spider spinning winter webs. Spring is only a vague notion of a waiting vineyard, crocuses, and ten-thousand babies. The author is alone, musing, reflecting, at times participating. But not quite alone, for he brings the lucky reader along. I�ve been there, to this winter world, and I plan to go back.

                                                            � John Berbrich, Barbaric Yawp

Another Song I Know � Short Poems
by William Michaelian

Another Song I Know (click to view cover)

ISBN: 978-0-9796599-1-1
US $13.95; $10.95 at Cosmopsis Books
80 pages. 6x9. Paper.
Includes Author�s Note.
San Francisco, June 2007
Signed, numbered & illustrated copies

Another Song I Know is a delightful collection of brief, resilient poems. Reading them, one by one by one, is like taking a walk through our common everyday world and suddenly hearing what the poet hears: the leaves, a coffee cup, chairs � and yes, even people, singing their songs of wisdom, sweetness, and light.

                                                            � Tom Koontz, Barnwood poetry magazine

Also by William Michaelian

Winter Poems

ISBN: 978-0-9796599-0-4
52 pages. Paper.
Another Song I Know
ISBN: 978-0-9796599-1-1
80 pages. Paper.
Cosmopsis Books
San Francisco

Signed copies available

Main Page
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A Listening Thing
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No Time to Cut My Hair
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Poetry, Notes & Marginalia:
Recently Banned Literature

Collected Poems by William Michaelian
A Larger Life
Monastery of Psalms
Friends (includes French translation)
Summer of Dreams
Is It His Coat?
The Boy Who Wrote Letters
Forty Days, Forty Nights
Papa�s Song (clam chowder blues)
The Pilgrim�s Way
A Christmas Wish
The Teacher
The Literary Awakening of America
The Healer
The Enigmatic Child
What Happened to God
Reading Tristram Shandy
A Prefix of Obscure Meaning
He Knows
My Only Friend
The World I Know
We Do Not Need a Poem
Three Short Poems
I Hear the Earth
What Will I Give You?
Great Minds Think Alike
The Age of Us All
I Met My Spirit
Claim Denied
Summer Days
Greek Peppers
Another Hard Day
James Joyce Singing
How Many Stones?
At the Armenian Home
The Peace Talks
The Eggs of March
Armenian Music
If Poems Were Days
Once Again I Lied
One Last Thing
Everywhere I Go
Up Here On the Hill
Winter View
What December Said to January
Winter Poems
Spring Haiku
How to Write a Poem, In Three Lessons
The Walls Have Ears
Why I Don�t Buy Grapes
To French Vanilla and All the Other Flavors
It Was
Early Morning Haiku
Someone�s Mother
Fall Questions
My Old Black Sport Coat
The Clerk and the Windmill
Roadside Distress, Part 2
Magical Realism (First Prize)
Caf� Poetry Night: Two Poems
Short Poem for Spring
Short Poem for Summer
I Find Him Eating Butterflies
For the Sister I Never Had
An Absurdist Play
The Second Act

Of Poets and Other Things

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