words on canvas...

Someday, I will paint this William Carlos Williams poem:

[Spring Strains]
In a tissue-thin monotone of blue-grey buds
crowded erect with desire against
the sky -
tense blue-grey twigs
slenderly anchoring them down, drawing
them in -
two blue-grey birds chasing
a third struggle in circles, angles,
swiftly convergings to a point that bursts
instantly!
Vibrant bowing limbs
pull downward, sucking in the sky
that bulges from behind, plastering itself
against them in packed rifts, rock blue
and dirty orange!
But -
(hold hard, rigid jointed trees!)
the blinding and red-edged sun-blur -
creeping energy, concentrated
counterforce - welds sky, buds, trees,
rivets them in one puckering hold!
Sticks through! Pulls the whole
counter-pulling mass upward, to the right,
locks even the opaque, not yet defined
ground in a terrific drag that is
loosening the very tap-roots!

On a tissue-thin monotone of blue-grey buds
two blue-grey birds, chasing a third,
at full cry! Now they are
flung outward and up - disappearing suddenly!