His collection is over 500 pages of verse. That's gotta say something about his talent. He writes about everything, anything. Friends and relatives, conversations, farms, birds, deer, dogs, war, love, cunts, gods, poets, death, philosophy. Nothing turns me off from a poem more than starting it out by talking about an animal. Animals and long-lines guarantee that I won't be reading it. Still, it's C. K. Williams, and he's a good poet.
As I skimmed, I marked off the poems that struck me as the ones I wish I'd written. Not surprisingly, they're the shorter-lined, several-stanza verses. "The Other Side," "Ashes Ashes We All Fall Down," "Trash," "After That," "Becoming Somebody Else," and "Yours" are all from his earliest collections. I've learned that I like early CKW. I did surprise myself by reading through and actually liking "The Shade," which is a long-lined poem that also mentions sparrows. Shocking.
I tried to skip around and find other gems--"This Happened" and "Wood" from his later works popped out with semi-long lines.
Poems are not all about line-length. My motivation to read them is. CKW uses language, abuses language, makes language his proverbial bitch; he concocts images that have never existed. He speaks of rooms with no gods, being ravaged and ravished, women becoming wood and steel, and cellophane, which is one of the greatest words in the English language.
So for me, I can take CKW in small doses. Reading the entire collected poems was a large undertaking. I much prefer the mini-collection I made by marking off pages and going back to them. Finishing the entire collection did not happen. Too many long lines. I am too lazy.