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A Killing Frost Falls Down Tonight — William Williamson
A KILLING FROST FALLS DOWN TONIGHT by William Williamson
Is a new book of prose by the author of SOME CAME FIRST, SOME CAME AFTER and SOME CAME NAKED, William's three novels comprising his Florida Keys trilogy.
In A KILLING FROST FALLS DOWN TONIGHT, Williamson explores the intricate boundaries of life and death between family, lovers and friends with prose that is clean, stark and direct, as well as colloquial observations in his life and the world around him and ruminations on writing.
His work is always significant in the way he moves poetry to make lyrical beauty with words. Williamson calls it big woman emotion. Big woman emotion is what we feel. Big woman emotion stirs the mind, ignites the loins, and conquers the soul. It brings forth life to all of us. Without big woman emotion, we suffer, such is life, we wither and we die on the vine.
Williamson's work casts traditional poetry to the wayside. His prose poems are naked and shaved with a contemporary edge and pulse, yet, his subjects are the same that the romantic poets from the past, celebrated and mourned with ink on paper under candle light, while drowning, in chalices of wine.
Is a new book of prose by the author of SOME CAME FIRST, SOME CAME AFTER and SOME CAME NAKED, William's three novels comprising his Florida Keys trilogy.
In A KILLING FROST FALLS DOWN TONIGHT, Williamson explores the intricate boundaries of life and death between family, lovers and friends with prose that is clean, stark and direct, as well as colloquial observations in his life and the world around him and ruminations on writing.
His work is always significant in the way he moves poetry to make lyrical beauty with words. Williamson calls it big woman emotion. Big woman emotion is what we feel. Big woman emotion stirs the mind, ignites the loins, and conquers the soul. It brings forth life to all of us. Without big woman emotion, we suffer, such is life, we wither and we die on the vine.
Williamson's work casts traditional poetry to the wayside. His prose poems are naked and shaved with a contemporary edge and pulse, yet, his subjects are the same that the romantic poets from the past, celebrated and mourned with ink on paper under candle light, while drowning, in chalices of wine.
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