Only those poets who value silence, who let their words grow out of it, can be 'intense with doubt and feeling', as poetry requires in its deepest levels. Michael Sariban is a meditative poet who writes with 'infinite attention' about landscape and mindscape.

Any poet who can have bylines from Kevin Hart, Kate Llewellyn, Tom Shapcott, Judith Rodriguez and Graham Rowlands (and another acknowledgement for this journal...) had better be good, has got to be good. And he is. Listen: "The birds fall like notes out of/ the sky into Palestrina's garden.// angels perch on his roor, waiting/ for their voices to be returned// unseen fingers pluck at his curtains/ and marvel at the trees, but the moon// falls away without his knowing./ Tonight, someone's glued a boat// to the water, faint under the stars. He/ cannot see the ocean now, the acres// of mud at low tide, and the crabs reaching/ for the only heaven they know." (Palestrina's Garden, p. 52) God, I wish I'd written that. An artist's surreal veridicality, artlessly artful in its images and reflections, fresh as the breeze that blows from the Bay to Michael's home. Believe me, now? Buy it and read the full collection!

Michael Sariban was born in Berlin, the son of Russian émigré parents. He believes that learning the sounds and nuances of another language helped to sow the seeds for his ongoing love affair with poetry in English.

He is interested in issues around the translation of poetry and is passionate about music and the visual arts. His lifelong “learning” of the Australian landscape has taken place from the fluctuating viewpoint of outsider/insider.

This is his third poetry collection. His poetry has been widely published in Australia and overseas, and has been performed on Radio National. He has also published reviews of poetry.

He has four children and at present lives in Brisbane.