The Poem, William Carlos Williams
It’s all in
the sound. A song.
Seldom a song. It shouldbe a song—made of
particulars, wasps,
a gentian—something
immediate, openscissors, a lady’s
eyes—waking
centrifugal, centripetal
I see your WCW and raise you a WCW.
“The Red Wheelbarrow”
so much depends
upona red wheel
barrowglazed with rain
waterbeside the white
chickens.
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I’m in for a Wallace Stevens, “The Death of a Soldier” Life contracts and death is expected, As in a season of autumn....
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patrickwilson reblogged this from chriseversole and added:
I’ll call, with “In...Beginning” by Rainer Maria Rilke.
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