Michael William Biography

Broken drum. Tired horn.
A song for the
tongues of strangers. A cigar
for the soldier’s gun. A drop of
...

And he said
To me
'it's true, you can't go home again,
But if everywhere is your home
...

I sit by the bank of the Nile
And watch the feluccas floating
Up and down on the river. Across the bank
The beige mountains stand in a haze looking strange and thirsty against the
...

Poison arrow night. Street cleaners
stalking through
the streets like runaway trains
with phantom drivers. Run-away
...

The poems I write are too long
for you;
you say you prefer short poems:
...