Thursday, January 05, 2006


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.

William Carlos Williams


Patry Francis said...

Came across this poem elsewhere today and was reminded how much I love it.

Suzanne said...