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Old fan notes on 1962 WCW (who died in 61)


Old fan notes on 1962 WCW (who died in 61)

Leafing through 53 year old copy
of William Carlos Williams’
“Pictures from Brueghel and other poems”
I rearrange a previous owner’s margin notes:

Only if Amy & me lost everything separately
could we be useful together again

A stutter step from an MD
required to be as invasive as a priest no matter what

Medical report: She died of death
cross horse mucilage

Dance is the measure
the Sisypuss of fuck
female spiritual hand off from the pagans
(any with a tan Mexican Barbie doll?}

If you say one can’t go to the country
it’s because you say he can’t go anywhere

Roads don’t grow like trees
holy communion hamburger
force that thru the green fuss pothead poets

Pictures of beauty are beautiful pictures
and not beauty or beautiful
the wholeness integrity to me’s
from the coordination of all the fractured facets of a life

Pure whole design in your art if unaccompanied by
a coordinated correlative correlated private privacy
is scattered

Art is a symbol and thus partial
fractured art + ? kind of privacy can = wholeness oneness beauty

More terrified of women & thus a lover of many
WCW wz a fixer & a watchman
& mean

Walkin in Memphis
You a Christian?
Baby I am tonight

– Smith, 7.15.2015

Couple readings ago on the way out of Guide To Kulchur Text, Art, and News¬†Book Store I mentioned I needed some William Carlos Williams poetry and Ra Washington reached beneath the counter and gave me a battered copy of Pictures from Brueghel. I glued it back together and was delighted to find a previous owner had written frequent notes in its margins. So of course I copied them down, selected maybe 2/3’s of them and rearranged them into this. Added nothing except an ( and an ), and changed nothing beyond making two comments into one line. Believe from the phrase Dowery ’99 these comments were probably written in 1999, so a 5th edition of a 1962 book likely printed in 1967 had comments written in its margins by an unknown previous owner 32 years later which were¬†turned into this poem 16 years after that. Now that’s parentage.


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