Swamp Graveyard
It’s alive here
and yet it seems so dead,
a graveyard of bald cypress,
bladderwort, sun-dew.
Fallen branches
are adorned with turtle sculptures,
lily pads, frog monuments,
and there, on the surface
of a brown, watery, mausoleum,
two gator eyes freeze solemn.
The air is thick and low
like a shroud,
once floating islands root-bound.
If it weren’t for the slithering cottonmouth,
there’d be no movement here at all.
Ironic that.
Signs of life
come down to the deadliest.
Other Works
Skin Memory
reviewed by Ashley Wagner
... Williams exhibits a careful attention to sound, which makes up the root of each poem, which crackle like cold leaves on a path ...
Tao Te Ching (Ursula K. Le Guin rendition)
reviewed by Kathleen Nelo
... Previous translations did the job of converting the ancient Chinese into English, but to Le Guin, they felt awkward and clumsy; the beauty and elegance of the poetry in the text was lost ...