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Public Radio Poetry, Vol. 3: William Carlos Williams on This American Life

The submissions guide on “This American Life’s” Web site says they don’t do poetry very frequently, as they “find that it’s hard to do poetry or drama on the radio without sounding corny.”

Depending on your point of view, this shows either an ignorance or an intimate knowledge of the career of Garrison Keillor.

Despite their hesitancy to use poetry in their broadcasts, the tail-end of this last week’s “This American Life” had a section on William Carlos William’s famous poem, “This is Just To Say.” You know the one. About the plums.

There’s some interesting play with the poem, and if you’ll follow the jump, I’ll reward you with a link.

In this episode, poet and reporter for “Marketplace” Sean Cole:

explains that this is possibly the most spoofed poem around. We asked some of our regular contributors to get into the act. Sarah Vowell, David Rakoff, Starlee Kine, Jonathan Goldstein, Shalom Auslander and Heather O’Neill, all came upwith their own variations of Williams’s classic lines.

I was surprised to find that Sarah Vowell’s was not my favorite, given the big boy-girl thing I have for her. Starlee Kine’s though, seems to draw heavily from her recent experiences - also covered on another episode of “This American Life” - and makes the same kind of non-apology I feel like I should make to my last ex-girlfriend. It’s touching, really.

But they also mentioned Kenneth Koch’s “Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams,” which I happen to be memorizing for a poetry class. And because it’s relevant, I’m going to try, right here, to transcribe it from memory. If I mess up, let me know in the comments. Here goes:

“Variations on a Theme by William Carlos Williams”

1.
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do,
and its warm beams were so inviting.

2.
We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.

3.
I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.

4.
Last evening, we went dancing, and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy, and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the Doctor!

(image credit: “Ira_Glass_005” by Flickr user kuer90.1)

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  1. […] of poetry just creates this ridiculous spectacle of even the most ordinary poems. They’d make William Carlos Williams’ “This is Just to Tell You,” which, while richly layered, is JUST A LETTER AND SHOULD BE READ OUT LOUD AS SUCH, into some vast […]

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