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.

To whom then am I addressed? To

the imagination. [. . .]

If I could say what is in my mind in

Sanscrit or even Latin I would do so.

But I cannot. I speak for the integrity

of the soul and the greatness of life’s

inanity; the formality of its boredom;

the orthodoxy of its stupidity. Kill!

kill! let there be fresh meat. . . .

The imagination, intoxicated by

prohibitions, rises to drunken heights

to destroy the world. Let it rage, let it

kill. The imagination is supreme.

“William Carlos Williams might have been surprised to find Context reprinting sections of his 1923 prose-poem and poem collage, “Spring and All.” Then again, writing for all of us truly common readers, the pure products of public and state schools as has never before been true in Western history, perhaps he would have simply nodded. And smiled.” — Linda Wagner-Martin, Context