Home    Booking    About BFA    Contact    New Releases    Guthrie Center    Links

C.K. WILLIAMS, POET

“To put it simply, C.K. Willimas is a wonderful poet, in the authentic American tradition of Walt Whitman and William Carlos Williams, who tells us on every page what it means to be alive in our time.” —Stanly Kunitz

“His fearless inventions, with their rangeness of language and big long lines, quest after the entirety of life.” —Robert Pinsky

C. K. Williams is the author of ten books of poetry, the most recent of which is Collected Poems (2006). The Singing won the National Book Award for 2003, and previous book, Repair, was awarded the 2000 Pulitzer Prize, and the Los Angeles Times Book Award. His collection Flesh and Blood received the National Book Critics Circle Award. Williams has also published a memoir, Misgivings: My Mother, My Father, Myself, in 2000, and has published translations of Sophocles’ Women of Trachis, Euripides’ Bacchae, and poems of Francis Ponge, among others. A book of essays, Poetry and Consciousness, appeared in 1998. Recently he was awarded the Twentieth Annual Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize, an honor given to an American poet in recognition of extraordinary accomplishement. Among his honors are awards in literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the PEN/Voelcker Career Achievement Award, and fellowships from the Lila Wallace Foundation, the Guggenheim Foundation and the National Endowment of the Arts. He was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters in 2003, and teaches in the Writing Program at Princeton University.

Williams started writing poetry when he was 19, shortly after taking his last required English class at the University of Pennsylvania. “Poetry didn’t find me, in the cradle or anywhere near it: I found it,” he recalled. “I realized at some point—very late, it’s always seemed—that I needed it, that it served a function for me—or someday would—however unclear that function may have been at first.” Williams found his voice as a poet in the mid-sixties when writing to a magazine editor about the violence directed against civil rights activists. The process of writing this letter opened up a new way of thinking for Williams—a paradigm for writing all of his poetry. The result was “A Day for Anne Frank,” a meditation that linked the civil rights movement with the Holocaust and became the opening poem of his first collection, Lies (1969). “After the Anne Frank poem . . . I seemed to be able to write poems I wanted to write, in a way that satisfied me, that made the struggle with the matter and form and surface of the poems bearable, and, more to the point, purposeful,” wrote Williams.

Williams is known for his daring formal style, marrying perceptive everyday observations to lines so long that they defy the conventions of lyric poetry. His poems often border on the prosaic, inspiring critics to compare them to Walt Whitman's. Williams began his career as a strong anti-war writer, and in a recent profile in The New York Times stated that he still feels pulled in that direction: "It is always there, but it is more subliminal and is no longer on the surface. I do not want to be dogmatic."

The Singing explores topics surrounding aging: the loss of loved ones, the love of grandchildren, and the struggle to retain memories of childhood even while dealing with the complexity of current events. Of the poems in this collection, John Ashberry wrote, “They are clear about complex things, which one sees as slightly magnified, like pebbles on the bed of a very clear stream. Williams now realizes more than ever that 'your truths will seek you, though you still / must construct and comprehend them.' He succeeds at this task with a flair that tempers the regret that is the recurring note in these poems, and transforms it into something like joy." Today, Williams is considered one of the most esteemed living American poets.

“The most interesting thing about a poem is that it doesn't exist until it has its music. Every poem has a music. And until it has that, it's not a poem. It's just information or data that's floating around in your head or on your desk.”
–C.K. Williams

C.K. Williams, Poet

Downloadable images are in the Photo Gallery

Click here for audio files in the Audio Gallery

THE SINGING

I was walking home down a hill near our house
     on a balmy afternoon
under the blossoms
Of the pear trees that go flamboyantly mad here
     every spring with
their burgeoning forth

When a young man turned in from a corner singing
     no it was more of
a cadenced shouting
Most of which I couldn't catch I thought because
     the young man was
black speaking black

It didn't matter I could tell he was making his
     song up which pleased
me he was nice-looking
Husky dressed in some style of big pants obviously
     full of himself
hence his lyrical flowing over

We went along in the same direction then he noticed
     me there almost
beside him and "Big"
He shouted-sang "Big" and I thought how droll
     to have my height
incorporated in his song

So I smiled but the face of the young man showed nothing
     he looked
in fact pointedly away
And his song changed "I'm not a nice person"
     he chanted "I'm not
I'm not a nice person"

No menace was meant I gathered no particular threat
     but he did want
to be certain I knew
That if my smile implied I conceived of anything like concord
between us I should forget it

That's all nothing else happened his song became
     indecipherable to
me again he arrived
Where he was going a house where a girl in braids
     waited for him on
the porch that was all

No one saw no one heard all the unasked and
     unanswered questions
were left where they were
It occurred to me to sing back "I'm not a nice
     person either" but I
couldn't come up with a tune

Besides I wouldn't have meant it nor he have believed
     it both of us
knew just where we were
In the duet we composed the equation we made
     the conventions to
which we were condemned

Sometimes it feels even when no one is there that
     someone something
is watching and listening
Someone to rectify redo remake this time again though
     no one saw nor
heard no one was there