Vintage verse – January by William Carlos Williams



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.

by William Carlos Williams (1883-1963)

Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim

Vintage verse – Smell by William Carlos Williams


Oh strong-ridged and deeply hollowed
nose of mine! what will you not be smelling?
What tactless asses we are, you and I, boney nose,
always indiscriminate, always unashamed,
and now it is the souring flowers of the bedraggled
poplars: a festering pulp on the wet earth
beneath them. With what deep thirst
we quicken our desires
to that rank odor of a passing springtime!
Can you not be decent? Can you not reserve your ardors
for something less unlovely? What girl will care
for us, do you think, if we continue in these ways?
Must you taste everything? Must you know everything?
Must you have a part in everything?

by William Carlos Williams (1883-1963)

Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim.

Vintage verse – Spring Storm by William Carlos Williams

Spring Storm

The sky has given over
its bitterness.
Out of the dark change
all day long
rain falls and falls
as if it would never end.
Still the snow keeps
its hold on the ground.
But water, water
from a thousand runnels!
It collects swiftly,
dappled with black
cuts a way for itself
through green ice in the gutters.
Drop after drop it falls
from the withered grass-stems
of the overhanging embankment.

by William Carlos Williams (1883-1963)

Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim