YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams

Tags

1934, cheek, child, glass, hands, innocence, lap, nose, passing, sitting, tears, William Carlos Williams, windows, woman

YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW

While she sits
there
 
with tears on
her cheek
 
her cheek on
her hand
 
this little child
who robs her
 
knows nothing of
his theft
 
but rubs his
nose

 

YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW

She sits with
tears on
 
her cheek
her cheek on
 
her hand
the child
 
in her lap
his nose
 
pressed
to the glass

 

from Poems 1934
I prefer the second one, but I can’t fully appreciate the second one without the bed of the first one; which is why WCW had them this way, I guess; this is observed compassion, not getting-in-the-way compassion, not judging compassion; it is the compassion of a passing stream

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

child & sitting & windows & woman wormhole: silence
glass wormhole: Four Noble Truths
hands wormhole: psssssh
passing & William Carlos Williams wormhole: IN THE ‘SCONSET BUS by William Carlos Williams
tears wormhole: What You Are by Roger McGough

 

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sleep now

Tags

1997, 2012, 7*, breathing, cotton, doing, dream, dress, embarrassment, evening, feet, girl, hands, identity, lap, legs, movement, muse, neck, portal, purpose, quiet, searching, shop, shoulders, sitting, sleep, streetlight, talking, toes, waiting, writing, yellow

I am safe in a corner shop (looking for portals on shelves in racks)
evening gathers inside ending-day-busy streetlights just          on

a girl and myself waiting to be served quiet     I am seated     waiting
the girl is fidgeting her shoe drawing her foot out slightly

to see her veined feet the root of her toes; she notices me noticing
and moves to another part of the shop adjusting         something

I am sorry; she has on a yellow dress; she comes back to the counter
stands beside me talking to the shopkeeper adjusting her tights now

plucking them up raising her dress a little, she steps and sits on my lap
without talking without referring to me still talking to the shopkeeper

clean crumpled yellow cotton neck; oh; a little bashful I put my arms
around her waist, she continues to talk engaged in her business

her hands come to rest on my hands on her legs I am embarrassed
but she is comfortable in my lap moving and leaning as she talks

thank you yellow cotton shoulder, now I know what to write
now I know what to do, now I can breathe      deeply, I think I could

sleep now

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

breathing & doing wormhole: I
dream & girl & muse wormhole: adjustment
evening wormhole: traffic lights and broad avenue
feet & writing wormhole: returning home handsome
hands wormhole: tag cloud poem IX – haiku is awkward / the more that is left in / like uncombed hair
identity wormhole: passersby
quiet wormhole: through the pane – poewieview #34
searching wormhole: cut while you’re ahead/cut while you’re a thread – poewieview #35
sitting wormhole: time
sleep wormhole: gone black
streetlight wormhole: well,
talking wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J Redford – Snow
waiting & yellow wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – snow

 

thar she perched

Tags

2013, ankle, breasts, earth, hair, knees, lap, legs, light, lotus, meaning, mist, morning, nose, posture, stone, Sylvia Plath, Tara, telephone lines, trees, typewriter, waist, walls, words, writing

 

 

 

                      thar she perched on the dry stone-
                      capped stone wall one morning
                      misty swirled the trees on the flat-
                      meadow horizon with right leg folded

                      down slipper-pointing to the earth with
                      sharp-ankle contrast to the stone and
                      left leg folded up anchored over right
                      knee padding-(pushing / rocking a loose

                      stone?) like Tara ready to step from her
                      lotus with pretty waist and pulled-back
                      sleeves – wait wait – she pulls the sheet
                      from the neat-clack type-writer perched-

      nestled against shin-bone in her lap – whawassat? – sheet stays wrapped around
      the platen, shoulders, bandana’d hair, pointy nose, pointy breasts, all, read
      attention to the words – held held – and while a telegraph pole leans slightly
      from the weight of all its messages a light flashes up from the distant trees

 

 

 

^{————w}(O)rmholes_________________________________|—–

hair & mist wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
light wormhole: ‘in the centre of the bare room …’
meaning wormhole: events happen / through all measure of name
morning wormhole: 1977
posture wormhole: gently straighten
stone & trees wormhole: H e a v e
Sylvia Plath wormhole: living mystery / murder theatre
Tara wormhole: the strange mauve relief of / this burgundy-gritty encounter
walls wormhole: what heavy and cantilevered structure
words wormhole: our whore-y little compromises
writing wormhole: un … able