Michael Angell

Michael Angell This page is exclusively dedicated to the sharing of my writings. I hope it adds some sunshine to your day (and moonlight).

10/25/2019

October 25, 2019

How can I place it when it’s solidity dissolves solving?
I forage, I return to turning into Inward’s outstanding
credit to debit the past,
Flowing mistakes, mistaken waterfalls and listening
pallets of in-between, midland, centers, pivot point and
summit,

Can’t weather a golden weather vane,
Can’t dry a wave off,
Can’t pepper salt or collapse A’s trajectory to Z…

To hear and feel while listening: two sets of ears,
Four footprints belonging to five people,
Two caterpillars, one season for a nebulae seedling,
Your meaningfulness and my counting fingers held
up in the dark,
What the owl sees and how deep the mouse must dig
to secure its dreamtime-keep.

04/17/2019

Michael Angell's works of poetry, short stories, sculpture, fine art, illustration and design.

April 15, 2018I hid a cave within a cave,It’s in plain sight,No one suspects a thing,My treasure is absolutely safe.
04/16/2018

April 15, 2018

I hid a cave within a cave,
It’s in plain sight,
No one suspects a thing,
My treasure is absolutely safe.

April 14, 2018It’s a phrase hidden inside a day that never wokeor slept,It’s a snowflake erased for the sake of no two a...
04/14/2018

April 14, 2018

It’s a phrase hidden inside a day that never woke
or slept,
It’s a snowflake erased for the sake of no two alike
although, in secret, it sits on a throne of fire as the
mother of them all,
It’s the color blue swimming in pure white light,
It’s a butterfly asleep on the upturned stomach an
infant tyrannosaurus,

The smile that’s beyond condemnation for where its
been born from,
The love that has no discretion, that keeps caves as
dark as rainbows need more than one color,
It’s a leprechaun French-kissing a gargoyle under a
waterfall,

You, me, she, he, they and we, worlds hyper-galloping
on the backs of black hole fleas,
God-dogs roaming free, this life and a hot apple pie
upon Edgar Allen Poe’s window seal cooling in a
gentle May-time breeze,

Take a deep breath and breathe free of criticism; the
air has swam billions of light years to lift you like a
kite into morning, noon and night, let no one frighten
your kindness, your drive, your pace,
This existence-kaleidoscope awes even when your
wings are enfolded inside a cocoon’s might,
Time will not fail you; Imagination is your father,
mother, sun and moon, it’s your UFO gently humming
on the edge of what was, is and wherever Yet, Here,
Then and Zero sings inside your joy to implore
pronouncing ‘I am.’

March 22, 2018Returning from the slumber of a star’s echo-song quenched by Time and saturated by Pause,Piece by piece, t...
03/23/2018

March 22, 2018

Returning from the slumber of a star’s echo-song
quenched by Time and saturated by Pause,
Piece by piece, thread by thread, these days bend
and grind, swim and wind their ways through lamplight
bright, fading, unlit and pawning grey for green-brown,
lavender for unique roses and shy tulips beneath the
frost-line of December’s grin…

I crawl, dive, subside and glisten while listening to
caves illuminated by glowing bone-gowns dancing,
pythons, scorpions, heartache and voodoo tempers
stewing in cauldrons of sugar-meal and Frost King
momentum churning,

Fingerprints evaporating as snowflakes exhale into
the sun from whence I came,
None of this really is or isn’t, someone said ‘yes’ and
I landed, I grabbed onto a dividing cell and tore it
apart so to share its lonesome oneness with this world
and in remembrance of, with and inside reaching out
from that other…

Your mind is made up while angelic demons burn
books so to have carbon to alchemize new-book-page
inks: it’s a dance, trance, romance and a necromancer’s
sixth birthday, the cake is a donated heart from a
collapsing star, the candles are six vertical suns, their
last momentums holding softly to feel an out-breath
and secure a wish ushering in wrapped presents, jars
of seeds, wands of unlimited power and humility,
diagrams for conjuring the new and oldest of ancient…

Nearby a clock ticks underground,
Nearby closeness closes the eyes of an elderly clown,
Nearby a railroad winds itself up, grows a cast-iron
nautilus speckled with rubies, diamonds and naked
undulating, alien bodies tattooed with crop circles yet
laid out and sprouting golden grains, black with fervor
for Pluto and white so to smile from inside Venus’s eyes,
It dives deep so to tell the time to pregnant processions
of mole princesses and stadiums of fertile gopher mistresses…

January 23, 2018Some spiritual voices speak in absolutes,Some crush Pan-flutes in oppositional, ‘peaceful’ disarray,Some...
01/23/2018

January 23, 2018

Some spiritual voices speak in absolutes,
Some crush Pan-flutes in oppositional, ‘peaceful’ disarray,
Some say it ‘this way’ or ‘that sway’, placing exclamations
at the end of their revelations, yet, The Story could have an end for him, her, it or them, but they do not speak for me, the other hims, hers or yours...

Fireflies surrounded by water lift off into the air to swallow
Reverse by going forwards,
Suns rise because their child-planets play round-n-round, a
game to silent music,

We weep, we laugh confused, we hold more than one direction while going twice as slow as gullibility allows, defying laws yet to be written, though once noticed, prayers pretend they were dreams, never actually lived, but the conscience knows better, nightmares too; rainbows don’t show white or black because they’re the hues of its inner-core-geode souls,

A kitten crawls and laps from the full moon’s smiling
face of eternally fresh cream, compliments of solar system
#345.45.67.H44.555,
An old dog howls into the quiet face of the new moon,
compliments of solar system #345.45.67.H44.555.1/30,
The porch creaks with cessation, termite gestation and
footprints of ghosts assigned to newborns standing in line
for retired keepsakes and re-remembered heirlooms,

Thunder strikes the gold-leafed kite,
Electrified it hurls apart its heart shaped, tethered diamond
whatchamacallit thin-skin-self so to lay to rest flight,
wonder, dreams and fun, in exchange for a new song so to
rekindle its gestation-orbit again and again, differently,
yet related, unique, yet familiar and felt as necessary,

Coal-swan-ink plumage eyes,
The hammer of Thor,
The décor of a hundred crying wives,
The dried up bee hives and severed candle by a flaming
blade made of snow flakes and golden hay…

The boy-man, the girl-woman, the crucified wrinkles of Time,
The wherewithal of doing nothing and a lot of it…
Voices under the skin, connecting the dots at the desk set for
the eye of the Hurricane named ‘Somberdrum’.

November 19, 2017I placed garlands of wilted and fresh flowers by yourhippopotamus followers, their necks wreathed in pe...
11/22/2017

November 19, 2017

I placed garlands of wilted and fresh flowers by your
hippopotamus followers, their necks wreathed in
peonies, rose bud braids and frozen sky-salmon, curved
and carved, living and thistle free, their dripping Life-oils
smearing the Path Least Traveled as your baby picture
was seen being worn as diadems in their headdresses
glowing red, white, purple and green-mauve,

I touched the beech, the sand disappeared,
I touched her thighs and sexuality became a sun,
I touched the moon-Emperor’s migraine-wonder as
black holes moaned and stellar children yawned out
Jupiters, Venuses and errant moons drunk on the
ambrosia of Nothingness, looking for parent-hems to
tag along to, gentle and round,

Breezes passed through elder atmospheres of watching
traffic foam by, creased my conscience into confessions
of lying deeper in, in becoming gasoline to fresh water,
sand to smooth lotion and reasons dampened by squalls
tempesting through a dream you forgave but did not
kiss unconditionally day-to-day, moment-to-moment,

You said ~ “Be” and I replied by pointing to a petroglyph
3000 years old, smiled, swallowed a ball of scorpions,
searched the stars for your first teardrop and returned to
earth as a rainbow lashing dragon, on fire, sheading saints,
nuns, priests and long-shore fishermen loyalties one by
one till cathedrals shook and bunkers collapsed, no more
angels, devils, yin or yang…

Lying deeper in, Truth curled quiet (but not a nautilus)
and crayon-less, pale and heart-warmed by the cabin
of Odin’s foremost thoughtless thought and pleasure
uprooted as a rose covered raging lioness on a black
moon night, running through the thickets of Time &
Space, vivaciously pursuing the thumping hearts of
delicious Time-stood-still antelope and Out-of-time
zebra…

Come, dance this standing still,
Drink this thirst-maker dry,
Wheel these squares across zero-gravity,
Into the song of dead silence, the wealth of a penny’s
forecast of gold, diamond, ruby and pearl, whilst being
nothing-at-all,

Pen to paper, buttercup to chin, ‘She loves me not, She
loves me as a twin,’
Petal after petal, sprouts another and another before
the Circle can compare,
Bewares disrobe,
And I absorb the reasons you’re anger disavows this
world as less than a mirror and more than a soul’s
encapsulated amber-astral-den.

November 17, 2017Let me tell you a story ~It was an early December morning and you told me to come out and smell the flo...
11/17/2017

November 17, 2017

Let me tell you a story ~

It was an early December morning and you told me to
come out and smell the flowers,
I touched the walls, I touched the floor and ceilings of a
great earthen vessel that contained me, I’m a retired Genie,
smoke-free, a quandary to Nature and stem-cell research,

I stepped out into a jungle covered in snow and met you,
a deaf musician and amnesiac ventriloquist,
You smiled at me from beneath a frozen pond,
From the ice I took in the scented petals, the spider
monkey howls and the wish fulfilled that I’d become
stardust in your hair,

The moon conjoined with the sun as I watched all the
planets march into it, your solar purse, including the one
I and your reflection were on, I watched as my bottle
dissolved and formed new nebulae, astrology and alien
biological seams alongside Eternity’s ever expanding
lace night-dress,

I stood and wandered without footsteps, gravity, air
or command, no thoughts, no reasons to be, simplicity
became a City of pure diamond and gold, I called up
the songs of gods and goddesses and heard but one
sound, a cell dividing, then another and another…
It would come to pass that I’d also hear you singing
and turned to understand, found my head was hollow
and inside it found that a red rose was turning round
and round,

You pushed up on the pond’s ice-lid, lifting it off in
one piece, sat it upon four great boulders, covered it
in fine linen, set two plates, a candle, silverware and
wine glasses, called me to join you as Space itself
poured into the goblets, two white swans pulling an
avalanche off Mt. Olympus like a sheet, cut it in half
and offered it as our napkins, we ate Time, Was and
That, we ate Past, Future and Now, we ate I, This and
Where, Why and How, dessert was Silence, Peace as
hollow weeping willows danced with granite chestnuts
pouring from their owl-nest-entrances,

The sun dimmed, expanded… I heard a door creak
open, a watch-face fall off and a Grandfather clock
tilt over to check a new fissure in its abandoned
mansion, I felt the Truth, I felt the Lie, I felt the Love
and I felt the blank breathing Sky’s warm eyes firmly
set within your palms’ twin beating hearts,

Queen of Passion, Empress of Sexuality, Redeemer of
the Impossibly sinful, Mother of Radiance and elliptical
Grace, Sister of Forever and Daughter of Dangerous
and Genius Forgiveness, Grandmother of Change, Chance
and Cloudy days reflected in the eyes of old yellow labs
wandering aimlessly in meadows of daisies, tulips, daffodils
and white sage blooming…

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Nevada City, CA

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