Conversation is undoubtedly paramount to a physician’s daily existence. William Carlos Williams conversed with patients daily; it is no wonder, then, that a reader of his poetry might notice frequent references to the conversations Williams both engaged in and often overheard. The series of poems entitled “Detail” reference conversations or, at minimum, take on a conversational tone. Curiously, each of the poems entitled “Detail” are shortened—almost as if a lens has zoomed in to one or two details of the whole conversation, which tends to take the snippet of conversation out of the context so that the poem (as machine) actually works to scramble the details. Since Williams insists that there are “no ideas but in things,” readers must combat the temptation to assign ideas to a lack of things—namely, the missing details. Instead, readers are ultimately given just enough detail to be able to “sit back, relax, and let thing spray in your face.”
In the first of four poems entitled “Detail,” Williams’ use of a shortened ellipsis creates a focus on the first two lines: “Her milk don’t seem to../She’s always hungry but..” (14). The shortened ellipsis does double duty here: one, it mimics an interruption in conversation—almost akin to an extended pause; and two, it causes readers to wonder who the pronouns “her” and “she” may reference. The subsequent lines, “She seems to gain all right,/ I don’t know” continue to cause readers to wonder who “she” is and what problem is causing the speaker to discuss her. Williams provides just enough detail concerning milk, hunger, and the italicized word “gain” to make readers want to put together a storyline to explain what we perceive as the missing details.
Another example of a “Detail” poem is on page 17. In the opening lines of this poem, the speaker states, “I had a misfortune in September.” An opening line like this invites readers to wonder the cause of the misfortune, but readers are never privy to the exact misfortune. In the third line of the poem, the speaker adds “I been keepin’ away from that for years.” This line further obscures the details of the aforementioned misfortune by using the word “that.” The final lines of the poem offer a possible cause of the misfortune: “I’m too/ old to have a child. Why I’m fifty!” Here, readers are given just enough detail to wonder whether the speaker’s misfortune is an unexpected pregnancy. Ultimately, the prior details of the poem offer no confirmation whether this is the case; the obscurity of the language provides just enough detail to make readers want more.
The final two poems entitled “Detail” mirror similar conversations. The long “YEEEEAAAAASSSSS!” in line four of the poem on page 19 provides enough detail for readers to understand that the “gentle mother” is frustrated; the detail that is missing is the true source of her frustration; it seems to go deeper than the question “Hey! Can I have some more/ milk?” In the final “Detail” poem on pages 20-21, readers see an interlocutor who casually tells his doctor, “I bin lookin’ for you/ I owe you two bucks.” The next line in the following stanza, “How you doin’?” creates confusion and obscurity. It is unclear whether this is a response from the doctor or merely another statement from the original speaker. The lack of details—like quotation marks demarcating the dialogue—creates obscurity.
Ultimately, what is consistent in each of the poems entitled “Detail” is the obscurity that is created by providing a close look at only part of the details of a conversation. When this happens, readers are left with the option of trying to assign meaning and fill in the details OR of simply letting the poem “spray [them] in the face.” It seems Williams’ purpose might be to provide readers with an exercise in letting the stark details he gives simply exist as poetry, while allowing the unheard, unspoken details to remain unsaid. There is no doubt that in titling each of these poems “Detail,” Williams is sure to point out the existence—or lack—of detail.
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