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Wednesday's Word: WCW

When I was in Saskatoon last month, I came across an illustrated children's biography of WIlliam Carlos Williams. This reminded me of how much I love his poetry, and I downloaded a small anthology.

Here are my favourites so far.


Again I reply to the triple winds
running chromatic fifths of derision
outside my window:
Play louder.
You will not succeed. I am
bound more to my sentences
the more you batter at me
to follow you.
And the wind,
as before, fingers perfectly
its derisive music.

Memory of April

You say love is this, love is that:
Poplar tassels, willow tendrils
the wind and the rain comb,
tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip --
branches drifting apart. Hagh!
Love has not even visited this country.


Subtle clever brain, wiser than I am,
by what devious means do you contrive
to remain idle? Teach me, O master.

The Gentle Man

I feel the caress of my own fingers
on my own neck as I place my collar
and think pityingly
of the kind women I have known.

and the ever classic:

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends

a red wheel

glazed with rain

beside the white


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