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William Carlos Williams

Portrait of the Author The birches are mad with green pointsthe wood’s edge is burning with their green,burning, seething—No, no, no.The birches are opening their leaves oneby one. Their delicate leaves unfold coldand separate, one by one. Slender tasselshang swaying from the delicate branch tips—Oh, I cannot say it. There is no word.Black is split… Continue reading William Carlos Williams

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