Thursday, December 31, 2015

A William Carlos Williams Poem (3)


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.


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