Sunday, March 11, 2018



Are you not weary,

great gold cross

shining in the wind —

are you not weary

of seeing the stars

turning over you

and the sun

going to his rest

and you frozen with

a great lie

that leaves you

rigid as a knight

on a marble coffin?

— and you

higher, still,


untwisting a song

from the bare


are you not

weary of labor,

even the labor of

a song?

Come down — join me

for I am lonely.

First it will be

a quiet pace

to ease our stiffness

but as the west yellows

you will be ready!

Here in the middle

of the roadway

we will fling

ourselves round

with dust likes

till we are bound in

their twisting stems!

We will tear

their flowers

with arms flashing!

And when

the astonished stars

push aside

their curtain

they will see us

fall exhausted where

wheels and

the pounding feet

of horses

will crush forth

our laughter.


William Carlos Williams
The Four Seas Company, 1917
New Directions, 2017


Luster said...

Dear Bob,

I came inside just now as the west grayed not yellowed but i had a chorus of coyotes to set the tune yo Williams's dance.

stay close,


Bob Arnold / Longhouse said...

Imagine, Mike, the good family doctor was dancing like this while Kafka was stlll alive!

Ah, the literary circles.

all's well, Bob