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William Carlos Williams

Of asphodel, that greeny flower,         like a buttercup                 upon its branching stem- save that it’s green and wooden-         I come, my sweet,                 to sing to you. We lived long together         a life filled,                 if you will, with… Continue reading William Carlos Williams

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American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Classic · Collection · Imagism · Modernism · Poetry

William Carlos Williams

And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks of her dress in a strange bedroom — feels the autumn dropping its silk and linen leaves about her ankles. The tawdry veined body emerges twisted upon itself like a winter wind…! — William Carlos Williams, “Arrival,” Sour Grapes (1921)

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American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Classic · Collection · Imagism · Modernism · Poetry

William Carlos Williams

Let the snake wait under his weed 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… Continue reading William Carlos Williams

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American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Imagism · Modernism · Poetry

William Carlos Williams

The work is heavy. I see bare branches laden with snow. I try to comfort myself with thought of your old age. A girl passes, in a red tam, the coat around her quick ankles snow smeared from running and falling- Of what shall I think now save of death the bright dancer? — William… Continue reading William Carlos Williams

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American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Imagism · Modernism · Poetry

William Carlos Williams

Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth–nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking thefield 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.… Continue reading William Carlos Williams

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American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Classic · Collection · Imagism · Modernism · Poetry

William Carlos Williams

A Goodnight   GO to sleep—though of course you will not—     to tideless waves thundering slantwise against     strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray     dashed thirty feet high, caught by the lake wind,     scattered and strewn broadcast in over the steady             car rails! Sleep, sleep! Gulls’ cries in a… Continue reading William Carlos Williams

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