Fuck Yeah William Carlos Williams

William Carlos Williams (September 17, 1883 – March 4, 1963) American poet, doctor and lover.

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revisiting William Carlos Williams

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One of my favorite paragraphs 

An excerpt of one of Allen Ginsberg’s letters to William Carlos Willlams as reprinted in Book Five of Paterson

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So long as the sky is recognized as an association is recognized in its function of accessory to vague words whose meaning it is impossible to rediscover its value can be nothing but mathematical certain limits of gravity and density of air The farmer and the fisherman who read their own...

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Mr. Williams, can you tell me, simply, what is poetry?

Well… I would say that poetry is language charged with emotion. It’s words, rhythmically organized…A poem is a complete little universe. It exists separately. Any poem that has worth expresses thew hole life of hte poet. It gives a view of what the poet is.

-Paterson, Book V, WCW

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I never tire of the mystery of these streets: the three baskets of dried flowers in the high

barroom window, the gulls wheeling above the factory, the dirty snow—the humility of the snow that silvers everything and is

trampled and lined with use—yet falls again, the silent birds on the still...

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William Carlos Williams

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“April” by William Carlos Williams

from Sour Grapes, 1921.

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“William Carlos Williams sitting on a wood stump holding two or three very fuzzy kittens.”

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Dear Bill: I've made a couple of sandwiches for you. In the ice-box you'll find blue-berries--a cup of grapefruit a glass of cold coffee. On the stove is the tea-pot with enough tea leaves for you to make tea if you prefer--Just light the gas-- boil the water and put it in the tea Plenty of bread in the bread-box and butter and eggs-- I didn't know just what to make for you. Several people called up about office hours-- See you later. Love. Floss. Please switch off the telephone.

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Williams married Florence Herman (1891–1976) in 1912, after his first proposal to her older sister was refused.

- WCW's Wikipedia page

Impossible to find photos of Florence. I bet she was a babe. But srsly WCW, you had to ask her older sister first?

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The Act

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tuanquocle:

There were the roses, in the rain.
 Don’t cut them, I pleaded.
 They won’t last, she said.
 But they’re so beautiful
 where they are.
 Agh, we were all beautiful once, she said,
 and cut them and gave them to me
 in my hand.

- William Carlos Williams

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anticipatedstranger:

William Carlos Williams Prescription Pad

[poetnine]

A Cold Front

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poetnine:

This woman with a dead face has seven foster children and a new baby of her own in spite of that. She want pills

for an abortion and says, Uh hum, in reply to me while her blanketed infant makes unrelated grunts of salutation.

She looks at me with her mouth open and blinks her expressionless carved eyes, like a cat on a limb too tired to go higher

from its tormentors. And still the baby chortles in its spit and there is a dull flush almost of beauty to the woman’s face

as she says, looking at me quietly, I won’t have any more. In a case like this I know quick action is the main thing.

-by William Carlos Williams (my favorite poet)

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peretzele:

We sit and talk, sensing a little

 the rushing impact of the giants’ 

violent torrent rolling over us, a

few moments. 

- Paterson, William Carlos Williams

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william carlos williams.

illustrator/photoshop.

bseatonart

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The Act

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ddeebb:

There were the roses, in the rain. Don’t cut them, I pleaded. They won’t last, she said. But they’re so beautiful where they are. Agh, we were all beautiful once, she said, and cut them and gave them to me in my hand.

William Carlos Williams