May 2017
AND THE WRITING BE OF WORDS
"Who left the **** door open!"
knowing who ****** well
"And the door of the icebox too...
...where is that no-good-man!"
A white chicken stood
in the middle of her kitchen
like a miniature chef
clucking to itself
pecking at plums
knocked over on the floor
left overs from yesterday.
"William..!" she hollered "...William!"
"Just wait 'till he sees
what I'll say!"
William lay staring at a sky
he would never see again
a fallen can of white paint
splurged all over barrow and grass
a manic splash of redgreenandwhite
like some stupid art installation.
It was raining.
"Who left the **** door open!"
knowing who ****** well
"And the door of the icebox too...
...where is that no-good-man!"
A white chicken stood
in the middle of her kitchen
like a miniature chef
clucking to itself
pecking at plums
knocked over on the floor
left overs from yesterday.
"William..!" she hollered "...William!"
"Just wait 'till he sees
what I'll say!"
William lay staring at a sky
he would never see again
a fallen can of white paint
splurged all over barrow and grass
a manic splash of redgreenandwhite
like some stupid art installation.
It was raining.
The title is from the William Carlos Williams poem A SORT OF SONG. And of course this poem walks us through his two must famous poems THIS IS JUST TO SAY and THE RED WHEELBARROW but taking us to a different place.
***
A SORT OF SONG
Let the snake wait under
his ****
and the writing
be of words, slow and quick, sharp
to strike, quiet to wait,
sleepless.
-- through metaphor to reconcile
the people and the stones.
Compose. (No ideas
but in things) Invent!
Saxifrage is my flower that splits
the rocks.
William Carlos Williams
***
A SORT OF SONG
Let the snake wait under
his ****
and the writing
be of words, slow and quick, sharp
to strike, quiet to wait,
sleepless.
-- through metaphor to reconcile
the people and the stones.
Compose. (No ideas
but in things) Invent!
Saxifrage is my flower that splits
the rocks.
William Carlos Williams
