Poetry, VOLUME 6

William Carlos Williams – Three Poems

Today is the 130th anniversary of the birth of poet William Carlos Williams…

In celebration here are three poems:

William Carlos Williams

[ [easyazon-link keywords=”William Carlos Williams” locale=”us”]Books by William Carlos Williams[/easyazon-link] ] [ Our review of
Wendell Berry’s book: The Poetry of Wm. Carlos Williams of Rutherford ]

[easyazon-image align=”left” asin=”1619021536″ locale=”us” height=”160″ src=”http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41DW9dL5HdL._SL160_.jpg” width=”107″ alt=”William Carlos Williams”]Her body is not so white as
anemony petals nor so smooth–nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
the field by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand’s span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blemish. Each part
is a blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over–
or nothing.

These poems are found in the collection SOUR GRAPES by William Carlos Williams. Available as a [easyazon-link asin=”B004TS7XWM” locale=”us”]FREE ebook for Kindle[/easyazon-link]
or for Nook and a variety of other formats via Project Gutenberg

Next Poem (“The Desolate Field”) >>>>>


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