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Williams, Spring and All

What do they mean when they say : « I do not like your poems ; you have no faith wha­te­ver. You seem nei­ther to have suf­fe­red nor, in fact, to have felt any­thing very dee­ply. There is nothing appea­ling in what you say but on the contra­ry the poems are posi­ti­ve­ly repel­lant. They are heart­less, cruel, they make fun of huma­ni­ty. What in God’s name do you mean ? Are you a pagan ? Have, you no tole­rance for human frail­ty ? Rhyme you may per­haps take away but rythm ! why there is none in your work wha­te­ver. Is this what you call poe­try ? It is the very anti­the­sis of poe­try. It is anti­poe­try. It is the anni­hi­la­tion of life upon which you are bent. Poetry that used to go hand in hand with life, poe­try that inter­pre­ted our dee­pest promp­tings, poe­try that ins­pi­red, that led us for­ward to new dis­co­ve­ries, new depths of tole­rance, new heights of exal­ta­tion. You moderns ! it is the death of poe­try that you are accom­pli­shing. No. I can­not unders­tand this work. You have not yet suf­fe­red a cruel blow from life. When you have suf­fe­red you will write dif­fe­rent­ly ? »

Perhaps this noble apos­tro­phy means some­thing ter­rible for me, I am not cer­tain, but for the moment I inter­pret it to say : « You have rob­bed me. God,. I am naked. What shall I do ? » — By it they mean that when I have suf­fe­red (pro­vi­ded I have not done so as yet) I too shall run for cover ; that I too shall” seek refuge in fan­ta­sy. And mind you, I do not say that I will not. To deco­rate my age.

But today it is dif­ferent.

The rea­der knows him­self as he was twen­ty years ago and he has also in mind a vision of what he would be, some day. Oh, some day ! But the thing he never knows and never dares to know is what he is at the exact moment that he is. And this moment is the only thing in which I am at all inter­es­ted. Ergo, who cares for any­thing I do ? And what do I care ?

I love my fel­low crea­ture. Jesus, how I love him : end­ways, side­ways, front­ways and all the other ways — but he doesn’t exist ! Neither does she. I do, in a bas­tard­ly sort of way.