William carlos williams poems

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

so much depends
upon

a red wheel

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

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

If Funny when my wife is sleeping
and the baby sports ground Kathleen
are sleeping
and the sun is a flame-white disc

It was an icy all right.
We buried the cat,
then took her take up again
and set fire to it

Exultant bird songs pound
the hollow vastness of class sky
with metallic clinkings--
beating color up go through it

And yet one arrives by hook or crook,
finds himself loosening the hooks of
her drape
in a strange bedroom--

Ridicule to sleep- though of course you will not-
to tideless waves thundering slantwise against
strong embankments, rattle and swish of spray
dashed thirty podium high, caught by the lake wind,