William B Williams

There are mornings when I have heard
I hover above myself like a bearded hummingbird
Wondering in flight, what I am doing there
Why is he, why am I, sitting in that chair
There are words being thought about,
And processed, being pushed out
Like Playdough through a hole
Sentences I see me trying to cajole
Verses that don't really work
Moving words without passion like a clerk
Excuses could be made
And maybe they are made
I want to do something requiring a pith helmet
Want to be chased by federal cops for being a bandit
I love elephants but I want to shoot one
Then stand on his mighty head while raising my gun
I want to die wrestling a komodo dragon
Fetch a million dollars for my pith helmet at an auction