excerpts from Duane Michals

Duane Michals
(1932, American photographer)

How could it be,

That one day i will say goodbye to all of this,

and miss the lilac spring, the maytimes whistling

on the wing, and robin's kiss.

In the summertime,

When days and evenings are in rhyme, you will not find 

me in the grove, among the lilies in repose,

on weeding in the garden path, where scented sedum

hold on fast.

When autumn falls,

I'll cast no shadow on the wall, or hear the owl's haunted hoot,

high above the rotting root.

When all is orange, russet, red, I not be there

with you in bed.

The day the silent snow descends,

and lulls to sleep all living friends,

I too will slumber in the earth, among the seeds

and squirrel's birth.

Who will miss me, who will care,

When I am called and no one's there?

I AM MUCH NICER THAN GOD

It was last thursday, when David finally died, that I realized that I was much nicer than God. I know that I would never had let him suffer all those months. And I never would have invented cancer in the first place. I would never let children fall asleep hungry or old people die alone.

But if it is true that I am nicer than God, with my vanity and petty greed, then I am in despair.

                    

ALL THINGS MELLOW IN THE MIND,

A SLEIGHT OF HAND, A TRICK OF TIME.

AND EVEN OUR GREAT LOVE WILL FADE.

SO WE'LL BE STRANGERS IN THE GRAVE.

THAT'S WHY THIS MOMENT IS SO DEAR.

I KISS YOUR LIPS AND WE ARE HERE.

SO LET'S HOLD TIGHT AND TOUCN AND FEEL.

FOR THIS INSTANT WE ARE REAL.