William Carlos Williams Poems

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
...

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
...

Let the snake wait under
his weed
and the writing
be of words, slow and quick, sharp
...

You sullen pig of a man
you force me into the mud
with your stinking ash-cart!
...

Snow falls:
years of anger following
hours that float idly down --
the blizzard
...

If I when my wife is sleeping
and the baby and Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc
...

Ecstatic bird songs pound
the hollow vastness of the sky
with metallic clinkings--
beating color up into it
...

And yet one arrives somehow,
finds himself loosening the hooks of
her dress
in a strange bedroom--
...

It was an icy day.
We buried the cat,
then took her box
and set fire to it
...

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,
...