On page 51 of William Carlos Williams' Selected Poems,
I have a page marked by an old playing card.
It's a king of spades, from where it came I have no idea,
but it is a fitting marker for a magnificent poem, called Death the Barber,
which I believe encapsulates this book and possibly WCW's journey as a poet.
It is raucous in its intent, but pretty in its delivery,
exemplifying the voice of the man behind it, as well as his life,
his fear, his fortune and his grace.
Dear reader, I pray you don't simply read this book,
but live with it; stay with WCW for a little while; keep him on your nightstand,
but also take him with you to the market,
and read him on the canned goods aisle.
Hopefully, in it, in him, you will see a bit of yourself,
your day, your life...
which is exactly what great poetry is supposed to do.