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| Duane Michals Children in Leningrad 1958 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Sailor in Minsk 1958 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Marcel Duchamp 1964 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Magritte with Hydrangeas 1965 C-print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Magritte on Couch 1965 C-print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Jeanne Moreau 1967 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals A man dreaming in the city 1969 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Sal Mineo ca. 1970 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Joseph Cornell 1972 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals The Unfortunate Man 1976 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Gerard Mistral (from the portfolio, Homage to Cavafy) 1978 gelatin silver print Milwaukee Art Museum |
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| Duane Michals Fly, Fork and Flower 1981 hand-colored gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Cheating at Solitaire 1982 hand-colored gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals To Too Two 1994 hand-colored gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Young Soldiers Dream in the Garden of the Dead with Flowers Growing from their Heads 1995 gelatin silver print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
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| Duane Michals Lilies are very vain and jealous too 2006 C-print Carnegie Museum of Art, Pittsburgh |
from Moonbeam
The mist rose with a little sound. Like a thud.
Which was the heart beating. And the sun rose, briefly diluted.
And after what seemed years, it sank again
and twilight washed over the shore and deepened there.
And from out of nowhere lovers came,
people who still had bodies and hearts. Who still had
arms, legs, mouths, although by day they might be
housewives and businessmen.
The same night also produced people like ourselves.
You are like me, whether or not you admit it.
Unsatisfied, meticulous. And your hunger is not for experience
but for understanding, as though it could be had in the abstract.
Then it's daylight again and the world goes back to normal.
The lovers smooth their hair; the moon resumes its hollow existence.
And the beach belongs again to mysterious birds
soon to appear on postage stamps.