@STATUS = UPD
@CHRONO = Williams, C. K. (November 4, 1936)
@GEO = <$I[GEO]UNITED STATES;>
@CAT = <$I[CT]EXPERIMENTAL POETS;><$I[CT]POSTMODERNISM;>
@T1 = C. K. Williams
@RH = Williams, C. K.
@Fullname = Charles Kenneth Williams
@BD = Born: Newark, New Jersey; November 4, 1936
@GN = Principal poetry
@PW = A Day for Anne Frank, 1968
@PW = Lies, 1969
@PW = I Am the Bitter Name, 1972
@PW = The Sensuous President, 1972
@PW = With Ignorance, 1977
@PW = Tar, 1983
@PW = Flesh and Blood, 1987
@PW = Poems, 1963 1983, 1988
@PW = A Dream of Mind, 1992
@PW = Selected Poems, 1994
@PW = New and Selected Poems, 1995
@PW = The Vigil, 1997
@PW = Repair, 1999
@PW = Love About Love, 2001
@PW = The Singing, 2003
@PW = Collected Poems, 2006
@PW = Wait, 2010
@SH = Other Literary Forms
@P = In collaboration with classical scholars, C. K. Williams has written verse translations of two Greek tragedies: one, in 1978, of <$I[X]{XRefMOA Ref="0135000430"}Sophocles{/XRefMOA}>Sophocles' Trachinai (435 429 b.c.e.; The Women of Trachis), and the other, in 1985, of Euripides' Bakchai (405 b.c.e.; The Bacchae). The translations, as their notes indicate, are for the modern stage as well as for modern readers. Williams hopes for a flowering of the "kernel" of Sophocles' tragedy within the translator's historical moment, "a clearing away of some of the accumulations of reverence that confuse the work and the genius who made them." The translations are thus not staid or literal but do aim for thematic accuracy and life. Williams also translated poems from Issa under the title The Lark, the Thrush, the Starling (1983). He has also translated Selected Poems of Francis Ponge (1994) and Canvas, by Adam Zagajewski (1991, with Renata Gorczynski and Benjamin Ivry). Personal and critical essays are collected in Poetry and Consciousness (1998), and Williams has produced an award winning memoir, Misgivings: My Mother, My Father, Myself (2000) and in 2010 On Whitman, an intimate rediscovery of America’s first great poet. Williams has also written and co-written children’s books, How the Nobble Was Finally Found (2009) with Stephen Gammell, and A Not Scary Story About Big Scary Things (2010).
<$I[PHO]{Photo Ref="0111225143 Williams_CK.jpg"}{Caption}C. K. Williams ({copyr} Jim Kallet){/Caption}>
@SH = Achievements
@P = C. K. Williams has received many and various recognitions. These include a Guggenheim Fellowship, the Bernard F. Conner Prize for the long poem by The Paris Review in 1983, the Lila Wallace Reader's Digest Award, the Berlin Prize, the Pushcart Prize, and the PEN/Voelcker Award. Flesh and Blood won the National Book Critics Circle Award, Repair won both the Pulitzer Prize and the Los Angeles Times Award for Poetry, and The Singing won the National Book Award. His memoir, Misgivings, won the PEN America Center 2001 Literary Award. In 2005 Williams received the Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize, an honor given to “living U.S. Poets whose lifetime achievements warrant extraordinary recognition.”
@SH = Biography
@P = Born November 4, 1936, in Newark, New Jersey, the son of Paul B. and Dossie (né Kasdin) Williams, Charles Kenneth Williams was educated at Bucknell University and at the University of Pennsylvania, where he was graduated with a B.A. in 1959. In 1965, he married Sarah Jones, and they had one daughter, Jessica Anne, who figures in Williams's personal poems. At the Pennsylvania Hospital in Philadelphia, he founded a program of poetry therapy and was a group therapist for disturbed adolescents.
@P = A Day for Anne Frank led to the publication of two volumes of poetry in 1969 and 1972 that established Williams as a protest poet of the Nixon era. In 1975, Williams married Catherine Mauger, a jeweler, and with her had one son. He was a visiting professor at Franklin and Marshall College in 1977 and at the University of California at Irvine in 1978 before becoming professor of English at George Mason University. After spending many years at George Mason, he joined the creative writing faculty at Princeton in 1996, and now spends part of the year teaching and the rest in a small farmhouse in France. In addition, he has taught creative writing at various workshops and colleges, including Boston University and Columbia University.
@SH = Analysis
@P = C. K. Williams achieved early success in the era of cynicism and protest surrounding the Vietnam War. His early work sketches in a tough, cryptic style the nightmare visions of a godforsaken world. I Am the Bitter Name is a howl of protest against the various corruptions of the world, lacking even the tonal variety and scant hope of his earlier work. Though powerful, Williams's protest poetry was seen by critics as an artistic dead end.
@P = During the five year interim between the publication of I Am the Bitter Name and With Ignorance, Williams remade his style, writing in long lines which fold back from the margin of the page and tell stories with proselike lucidity. The sense of human suffering and isolation common in the earlier poems remains, but the long line poems narrate dramatic tales set in American cities: scenes of family life, recollections of childhood, and views from the windows of urban apartments. Exact description and conventional punctuation replace the blurred grammar and dreamlike flow of the earlier verse. The later Williams poses in his poems as a sympathetic survivor who, seeing clearly the complexities and disillusionment of contemporary life, shares astonishing personal associations with the reader.
@P = Stylistic originality distinguished C. K. Williams's earliest work, and he has continued to evolve as a poet. Consistent in all periods of his work has been a "metaphysical" roughness and avoidance of merely literary polish. Meanwhile, he has treated frightening realities which are not conventionally subjects of poetry. His experimental style began with dreamlike lyrics with short run on lines, sporadic punctuation, and startling leaps of image and diction. Strident in tone, sometimes shocking, the early poems found quick acceptance in the Nixon years.
@ST = Lies
@P = Lies includes the long poem A Day for Anne Frank, which was published in a limited edition a year before it. In Lies, Williams anatomizes the horrors of modern history and existential despair. The absence of divine order grounds a series of nightmare visions with titles such as "Don't," "The Long Naked Walk of the Dead," "Loss," "Trash," "Downward," "Our Grey," and "It Is This Way with Men," which allegorizes men as spikes driven into the ground, pounded each time they attempt to rise. Williams's universe is the indifferent or hostile one of classic American naturalism, but it takes much of its apocalyptic substance from the Holocaust and from the Vietnam War. In spite of the negativity of his lyric outcries against suffering and waste, Williams's early poems burn, not only with terror but also with a passion that things should be better. Optimism, authority, and poetic form are smashed like atoms. Williams's complaint is that of the child man against the parent universe in which he finds himself an unloved stepson.
@P = There is monotony, even callowness, in this stance, in improbable <$I[G]{XRefGloss Ref="0199900428"}metaphors{/XRefGloss}>metaphors and scatological language flaunted for shock valueCexpressing a gnostic rejection of his prison body in the inhospitable universe. Nevertheless, Lies was critically acclaimed for its fusion of moral seriousness and verbal ingenuity. It concludes with the long poem about Anne Frank, the quintessential victim of history; to borrow a comparison from one of Williams's poems, she was like a little box turtle run over by a bus. "It's horrible," he says in that lyric. A Day for Anne Frank displays the horrible motto "God hates you!"
@ST = I Am the Bitter Name
@P = I Am the Bitter Name takes the technique of Lies one step further toward the abolition of techniqueCone step too far, most critics have argued. More homogeneous than Lies, this collection appears to try for and achieve self portraits of apocalyptic incoherence. The poet displays, piled like monstrous fish, the products of his vigorous dredging of his nightmare unconscious. Critic Jascha Kessler, in one of the more positive reviews of Williams's work, catalogs his strengths and failings: "the simplicity, clarity of diction, haste and jumbling of his thought by the unremitting stroboscopic, kaleidoscopic pulsing of a voice from thought to speech to image to unvoiced thought." Impressed that the source of Williams's expression is valid, calling the book "real poems," Kessler is nevertheless disoriented by it. Other critics were less positive, charging that Williams's passionate flailings missed their targets or even dismissing the poems as sentimental and blurred.
@P = As the tonal consistency of I Am the Bitter Name suggests, and as his later work confirms, Williams is a deliberate experimental stylist. Purged of commas, capitals, and periods, the poems sprout unpredictable question marks, exclamation points, and quotations. The sense spills over the ends of the short, jagged lines, so that it becomes almost a rule in these poems that a line end does not signal a break in sense. The effect is one of breathlessness, of a mind that, insofar as it is conscious at all, barely understands what it is saying. The reader seems to be hearing the raw emotive material of poetry at the moment of creation. Williams's vocabulary, too, suggests breathless, regressive speech, almost childishly simple but scatologicalCespecially in the political poems. The voice again suggests a righteous man child, outraged to surreal protest by the extent to which the real God and the real governments betray his standards.
@P = Sometimes the words in I Am the Bitter Name are explicitly political, as in "A Poem for the Governments." This poem offers itself as an onion to make governments cry for the family of the imprisoned Miguel Hernandes, whose family has nothing but onions to eat. Reminding "mr old men" how they have eaten Miguel and "everything good in the world," the poem becomes "one onion/ your history" and concludes self referentially, "eat this." Such explicit ordering of metaphor, common in Lies, is not the rule in I Am the Bitter Name, where even poems on political subjects dissolve into cryptic collisions of word and image. "The Admiral Fan," for example, begins with a "lady from the city" removing her girdle and baring her "white backside" in a barnyard and dissolves into a vision of her dismemberment, apparently not only by farm animals but also by a Washington lobbyist in a long car. She is emptied of "dolls." Her breasts become "dawn amity peace exaltation" in a vegetable field identifiedCas the grammar blursCwith nothingness, and flashing stoplights. Like the poems of André Breton, these let go even of grammatical structure in submission to the uprush of image and emotion.
@ST = With Ignorance
@P = Between 1972 and 1977, Williams was divorced, was remarried, and received grants and teaching appointments; during this time, he dramatically reinvented his poetic style. Except for its closing title poem, With Ignorance withdraws from the nightmare abyss and grounds its associations on human stories expressed in conventionally punctuated long lines with all the clarity of good prose. The change was presumably as much psychological as stylistic. The mature Williams, turned forty, tells his daughter that he has already had the bad dreams: "what comes now is calm and abstract." Later, in "Friends," he stands outside the terrors of his earlier poems to observe that "visions I had then were all death: they were hideous and absurd and had nothing to do with my life." The style of these self possessed reflections is easy informal prose, the style of a personal letter refined in its very plainness, which sets the stage in the more effective poems for sudden outbreaks of metaphysical anguish or human pathos equal to the best of his earlier verse.
@P = In "The Sanctity," Williams remembers going home with a married coworker from a construction site and seeing homicidal hostility between his friend's mother and wife, and the coworker's rageCa dark side of his character wholly masked by the ironic idyll of the workplace. The construction site is the only place, apparently, where the workmen feel joy, where they feel in power. Printed sources prompt some of the incantatory stories: an SS officer spitting into a rabbi's mouth to help him defile the Torah, until they are kissing like lovers; a girl paralyzed by a stray police bullet. Williams draws, however, usually from his experience: a veteran met in a bar, a friend in a mental hospital, an old bum seen after a marital quarrel, a girl he "stabbed" with a piece of "broken off car antenna" when he was eight. Here, in grotesque anecdotes, Williams again examines the irrational in human life, the inevitable discord and suffering, but with a sympathy for recognizable human faces and characters missing from most of his earlier work. Political concerns are implicit in the presence of veterans and police bullets, but there is no preaching. The one short poem not narrative is "Hog Heaven," which begins, "It stinks," and develops in biblical repetitions and variations an enveloping nausea for the flesh, a theme and method common in the protest poems but expanded here in limber, Whitmanesque lines.
@ST = Tar
@P = Tar demonstrates greater mastery of the anecdotal long line style, telling longer and more complex stories with more restraint and power and returning at times to openly political themes. The title poem recalls the day of the near disaster at the Three Mile Island nuclear plant, which was also a day of roofing work on the narrator's apartment building. Without ceasing to be themselves, the workmen become both trolls from the underworld and representatives of vulnerable humanity, their black tar pots associated with the nuclear threat to the north. Williams's old vision of the apocalypse is here, but the symbols are stronger because they move in a narrative with a persuasive surface of its own. Williams is reclaiming techniques many contemporary poets have abandoned to fiction. As he masters the long line narrative style, the lines become less plainCnot necessarily more ornate, but more susceptible to ornamentation without losing their naturalness and tone of the grotesque.
@P = Some of the poems in Tar begin with nature <$I[G]{XRefGloss Ref="0199900354"}imagery{/XRefGloss}>imagery and are leavened by it, though the suffering face of the city still always shows. "From My Window," for example, begins with the first fragrances of spring, budding sycamore, crocus spikes, a pretty girl joggingCbut this is only an overture to the movement outside the narrator's window of two alcoholic veterans, one of whom is in a wheelchair, and their tragicomic accident in the street, which reveals the unlovely, childlike nakedness of the crippled one. Like many of Williams's narratives, this one takes a sudden turn near the end, recalling the able bodied veteran pacing wildly in a vacant lot in falling snow, struggling to leave his imprint while the buildings stare coldly down.
@P = Tar is almost as much a book of short fictions as of poems; characters include a man falling in love with a black woman who walks her hideously ill dog outside his window, a boy awakening to night terrors in the city, a decaying luxury hotel taken over by drug users, mental patients, and old women. A pornographic tintype centers a fantasy on immigrant life; a welterweight fighter awakens memories of a German widow, a refugee following her husband's plot against Adolf Hitler, who encouraged her daughter's affair with the narratorCas if his Jewishness could expiate her guilt. Two of the most interesting poems, "Neglect" and "The Regulars," narrate no unusual events but are minimal narrative sketches of a bus layover in a faded coal town and old men in a neighborhood undergoing gentrificationCshort stories in their use of description and dialogue, but in the <$I[G]{XRefGloss Ref="0199900088"}cadences{/XRefGloss}>cadences of Williams's taut, long lines.
@ST = Flesh and Blood
@P = Some of the poems in Tar use <$I[G]{XRefGloss Ref="0199900582"}quatrains{/XRefGloss}>quatrains, four long lines clustered and endstopped. In Flesh and Blood, Williams invents and writes a sequence of lines in a form comparable to the <$I[G]{XRefGloss Ref="0199900669"}sonnet{/XRefGloss}>sonnet in length and rhetorical structure, eight lines of about twenty syllables each, usually shifting direction after the fifth line. Moving away from the extended stories of earlier works, Williams does not lose focus on the pathos and character of the urban world, but, necessarily, his tales shrink into the frameCeither to vignettes or to terse summaries like a gossiping conversation. Williams portrays victims of stroke and Alzheimer's disease, a poetry loving bum, an unhappy wife, a sobbing child, a girlfriend who hates her body, and, in one subsequence, readers in a variety of places and poses.
@P = There is always clarity in these portrait poems, usually wisdom and complexity, but little of the frenzy that burned in the earlier work. Flesh and Blood includes poems that develop allegorical subjects in abstract language, despite earlier critical disapproval of this methodCparticularly in "One of the Muses," the only poem in Tar which critics judged a failure. It is Williams's way, however, to take chances. His characteristic strength is his restlessness and formal creativityChis refusal to remain confined within a style after he has mastered it.
@ST = The Vigil
@P = In the 1990's, Williams continued to expand his range, refine his art, and please greater numbers of readers and critics. In The Vigil, Williams again employs, with little variety, the long, rolling, syntactically suspenseful line that is not a line at allCat least not a conventionally measured line. Though Williams gives the reader rich stretches of intellectual and philosophical rumination, critic Richard Howard is probably correct in asserting that this technique works best in narrative and descriptive passages, in which Williams excels. It also works well in the poem or passage that is based on inventorying or list making. In this volume, the eight part sequence titled "Symbols" succeeds as a fine, organic correlation of Williams's aesthetic medium and his subject and theme.
@ST = Repair
@P = Repair represents the work of a mature poet not only polishing a technique that is comfortable while applying his formula to new subjects, but also an artist for whom new experiences dictate formal departures. Perhaps this combination of factorsCa rich and distinctive thirty year body of work and evidence of new directionsCbrought this volume the Pulitzer Prize. Many of the poems on Repair are only newly finished; Williams had worked on them for many years and they have a familiar feel to those who have learned to read his work. Other poems have a more conventional stanza pattern and shorter lines than much of Williams's earlier work. One poem that has to do with his experiences as a grandfather takes the poet and the reader into new territory. Some will feel that the physical smallness and the youth of the grandchild gave rise to the unexpected short line in "Owen: Seven Days." Williams has commented on simply hearing a new, more jagged music that required what for him is an uncharacteristic prosodic result. Many of the poems, like the magnificent "Invisible Mending," have to do with reconciliation and acceptance. These activities of the heart, which are among the key meanings of the book's title, indicate the inner place that Williams has reached in the arc of life reflected in his poems, an arc begun in protest and anger.
@ST = The Singing
@P = The poems in The Singing were written just before and just after the World Trade Center destroyed and the U.S. declared war on Afghanistan. Williams started his career with overtly political poetry, and though he has never entirely abandoned that stance, it has not always been his primary focus. With the Iraq war, Williams finds himself again in that dark place where fear and outrage are bigger than hope.
@P = Williams’ poetry tends to be at least one step removed from experience, the observer observing himself, which allows for extremely nuanced investigations, twists and turns pursued as he unravels the meanings of actions and emotions, of the invisible but always present assumptions about identity that color how we view the world, other people, ourselves, and our own interpretations of experience. However, the lens is always Williams himself, his assumptions, his crafting of experience and observation, his questions, his conclusions. There are poets who stand more to the side, who let in other angles of view, who, whatever else they get up to, don’t question so severely their own perceptions, who trust that their subject will speak, that their own personal failings won’t completely obscure the reader’s view. Williams takes a decidedly different tack, always agonizingly aware of the possibility that he might miss something, which may account in part for the lengthy lines and stanzas in so much of his poetry.
@P = Williams is always willing to rake himself over the coals. We look over his shoulder as he wrenches the details of his failures from the attics of memory, brushes off the petty rationalizations, accepts his human fallibility, and renews his desire to be better, to use his intellect to find his way rather than to obscure his culpability. Long lines and massive blocks of text are the ideal vehicle for the exquisite detail and the many outlying branches of thought Williams employs. One reviewer described them as boxcars full of freight, and in fact the form allows the reader to go along for the ride, to disembark with something to show for his or her journey through Williams’ psyche.
@P = As in Repair, there are also poems of more brevity, though not without the attention to detail Williams puts to such good use in his long poems. “Scale I” and “Scale II” are gorgeous and touching evocations of his response to his wife’s physical presence, their short lines allow the reader to savor each image and sound, rather than rush past in a torrent of words.
@P = Occasionally Williams seems to have been seduced by abstraction, as in the poem “War,” a curiously distant and artful treatment of a messy, emotional subject. His dedication to poetry as high art can at times lead him to forget that besides being artifice poetry must also be visceral, alive, and organic in order to work.
@P = Most of the time, however, his words are as alive as words can be, carrying their meanings with such particularity that no other words could possibly do.
@ST = Collected Poems
@P = With his fourth compilation of old and new work, Williams adds to the weight of his reputation as a poet of thoroughness and interior vastness. In spite of a love for the world and specific people in it, in Collected Poems Williams exposes a somewhat darker and more discouraged view of humanity as a whole than in more recent volumes, returning in some fashion to the original cry of outrage and pain he began his career with in Lies. The new poems the collection ends with are largely concerned with aging, decay, death, destruction, shame, and betrayal, and more often than not draw no particular comfort from any sense of hope for the future. There is more a resignation; the human condition is what it is, the chances that humankind will become more careful and thoughtful, more loving, more just, are very slim indeed. But there is still joy to be had, still a plum tree that, with it’s rotting fruit and broken branch, is nevertheless preparing to shoot forth once again with its blossoms, its glossy leaves, it’s bark gleaming golden in moonlight.
@OMW = Other major works
@GN2 = nonfiction
@PW = Poetry and Consciousness, 1998
@PW = Misgivings: My Mother, My Father, Myself, 2000
@PW = On Whitman, 2010
@GN2 = children’s books
@PW = How the Nobble Was Finally Found, 2009 (with Stephen Gammell)
@PW = A Not Scary Story About Big Scary Things 2010
@GN2 = translations
@PW = Women of Trachis, 1978 (of Sophocles= play Trachinai; with Gregory Dickerson)
@PW = The Lark, the Thrush, the Starling, 1983 (of Issa=s poetry)
@PW = The Bacchae, 1985 (of Euripides= play Bakchai; with H. Golder)
@PW = The Bacchae of Euripides: A New Version, 1990
@PW = Canvas, 1991 (of Adam Zagajewski=s poetry; with Renata Gorczynski and Benjamin Ivry)
@PW = Selected Poems, 1994 (of Francis Ponge; with John Montague and Margaret Guiton)
@GN2 = edited texts
@PW = Selected and Last Poems, 1989 (of Paul Zweig)
@PW = The Essential Hopkins, 1992 (Gerard Manley Hopkins= poetry)
@BIB = Bibliography
@HG = Bawer, Bruce. Review of Tar, by C. K. Williams. Poetry 144 (September, 1984): 353 355. Praises Tar for its portraiture, citing "Waking Jed" and "The Color of Time" as the best of the collection. Compares Williams to Walt Whitman, but says the former has more warmth and intensity of feeling. Argues that Tar is a reminder not only of "what poetry is all about, but what life is all about." An appreciative review.
@HG = Chiasson, Dan. "False Consolations." The New York Times Book Review. (24 Dec. 2006): Book Review Desk: p15(L). In his review of Collected Poems, Chiasson calls Williams to task for what Chiasson sees as Williams’ departure from technical and intellectual subtlety and scrupulous clarity to a sort of hazy middle class discontent.
@HG = Coles, Robert. Review of With Ignorance, by C. K. Williams. The American Poetry Review 8 (July/August, 1979): 12 13. Likens Williams to S{oslash}ren Kierkegaard because both stay in the world while "groping for inner truth." Coles says Williams has achieved in these poems a "humble intelligence" and considers the task in these poems as a journey fraught with challenges.
@HG = Eder, Richard. "A Poet Watches Himself As He Watches the World." New York Times 25 Dec. 2006: E22(L). Eder’s review of Collected Poems is a balanced assessment of the poet’s body of work, acknowledging the pitfalls of Williams’ tendency to focus so intently on his own experience that it eclipses all else, yet praising Williams’ intelligence and sensitivity, his skill, the freight of treasure his poems carry.
@HG = Hedges, Chris. "Poet Marshals His Moral Passion Against the War." New York Times 13 Jan. 2005: B4. New York Times. Web. 4 Jan. 2010. Hedges marks Williams’ return to the more overt anti-war stance of his early poetry.
@HG = Howard, Richard. Review of The Vigil, by C. K. Williams. Boston Review, Summer, 1997. Although Howard has serious and well expressed reservations about the formal imposition of an extremely long line, he allows himself to admire those poems and passages in which Williams's technique works effectively. Howard praises Williams's successes in rendering "immediacy of sensation."
@HG = Jarman, Mark. The Secret of Poetry. Ashland, Ore.: Story Line Press, 2001. The chapter "The Pragmatic Imagination and the Secret of Poetry" compares Williams with Charles Wright and Philip Levine.
@HG = Phillips, Brian. "Plainly, but with Flair." New Republic, September 18, 2000, 42 45. Phillips reviews both Repair and the memoir Misgivings. He objects to Williams's habit of moralizing and of glossing the beginning of a poem at the end. Williams forces the reader away from direct experience toward a preferred comprehension. This habit undermines his great descriptive powers. Phillips also notes the tension between Williams's colloquial diction and his erudite range of references.
@HG = Riding, Alan. "American Bard in Paris Stokes Poetic Home Fires." The New York Times, October 4, 2000, p. E4. This flavorful piece of biographical journalism treats Williams's relationship with Paris as well as the patterns of his writing and teaching careers.
@HG = Sadoff, Ira. "Dreaming creatures." The American Poetry Review Jan.-Feb. 2005. Sadoff considers Gerald Stern and C.K. Williams as Jewish writers, seeing them as embodiments of a tradition of strictly truthful perception of things as they are—shabby, even sordid, yet mysteriously lovely—which allows them to persist hopefully, to dream of what’s always possible, if not inevitable.
@HG = Santos, Sherod. "A Solving Emptiness: C. K. Williams and Charles Wright." In his A Poetry of Two Minds. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2000. In a comparison of mid career poems by both poets, Santos examines parallel aesthetic experimentation and the determination to overcome despair through art.
@HG = Williams, C. K. "A Letter to a Workshop.(Essay)." The American Poetry Review July-Aug. 2007. Williams gives aspiring poets insight into his own evolution as a writer. He outlines what he has found most valuable to the practice of his craft, and in so doing reveals something of his own motivation to be a poet, not least of which is his high regard for the form.
@BY = William H. Green
@UPD = Philip K. Jason
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