 Apology by William Carlos Williams Red for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our non-entities stirs me to it. Colored women, day-workers, old and experienced, returning home at dusk in cast-off clothing, faces like old Florentine oak. Also, the set-pieces of your faces stir me, leading citizens, but not in the same way. And of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Appeal by William Carlos Williams Red for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake You who are so mighty, Crimson salamander, hear me once more. I lay among the half-burned sticks at the edge of the fire. The fiend was creeping in. I felt the cold tips of fingers. Oh, Crimson salamander! Give me one little flame, one, that I may bind it protectingly about the wrist of him that flung me here. Here, upon the very center, this is my song. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Ballet by William Carlos Williams Red for LibriVox.org by Alan Davis Drake Are you not weary, great gold cross shining in the wind? Are you not weary of seeing the stars turning over you, and the sun going to rest, and you frozen with a great lie that leaves you rigid as a night on a marble coffin? And you, higher still, robin, untwisting a song from the bare top twigs, are you not weary of labor, even the labor of a song? Come down, join me, for I'm lonely. First it will be a quiet pace to ease our stiffness, but as the west yellows, you will be ready. Here, in the middle of the roadway, we will fling ourselves round with dust lilies, till we are bound in their twinning stems. Sample complete. Ready to continue?