Time and the Tilting Earth, the latest volume of poetry by Miller Williams, contains poems ranging from “A Note to the Alien on Earth” to “A Ten-year-old in Joint Custody Writes her First Poem.” His poetry is diverse and quirky, yet he never leaves his Southern roots. Williams consistently uses simple rhyme and meter, giving his poetry the feel of a porch conversation in the twilight. One can almost hear the twang in his speech, the slow, calm gesticulations and the posing of existential questions that have no answers, yet are somehow perfect for quiet nights in the countryside.
Williams, who is famous for being the inaugural poet at former President Clinton’s second inauguration, also is the father of Grammy Award-winning singer and songwriter Lucinda Williams. He has had a long and industrious writing career and has penned 14 volumes of poetry. Recalling his experience as a former biology teacher, Williams often injects elements of science into his writing: “A gentle touch, and molecules / line up along the wall of a neural chain / at the links of which a thing called acetylcholine / passes the signal on till it reaches the brain.”
Science leads him to the deepest questions dealing with existence of life itself: “What is existence? What does it mean to be? / How did existence come to be from nothing?” Sometimes, he reaches conclusions that are a bit too simple to be satisfying. Williams, however, usually succeeds in pondering these unanswerable problems, answering questions with either witty clinchers or with more questions. In “An Unrhymed Sonnet,” after posing a series of deep, philosophical questions, Williams concludes, “Excuse me. I shouldn’t ask these questions here. / Please-just go ahead and cut my hair.” His endings are surprisingly witty and often took me off-guard. This light-hearted wit allows him to continue pondering these existential thoughts without becoming too heavy or overdramatic. In conclusion to a discussion about “how everything came to be,” Williams asks, “Every male mammal has nipples. / Could you please explain that to me?”
Williams also spends a lot of time addressing the process of writing itself, although less effectively than his treatment of other topics. In “Poem without a Title or Closing Line,” Williams writes from the point of view of a college student who receives some wise advice from an old professor. “‘Life,’ he said, ‘is a poem. An art and a craft. / Do you understand?’” This is perhaps one of the few moments in this book that elicits eye rolls. Williams, a longtime professor emeritus of literature at the University of Arkansas, can only be using the naïve university student as a device to insert personal adages without sounding preachy. However, the stereotype of the admiring student makes this particular poem seem even less realistic, especially in comparison to his other magnificent poems. In other poems when he addresses his craft, however, Williams sparkles. In “A Poem Wants Me,” Williams personifies the poem as a looming figure outside his window, rubbing “against the glass like a new idea,” a both haunting and beautiful image.
Time and the Tilting Earth is an enjoyable read, light-hearted yet thought provoking. “It’s hard to be understood and make that look easy,” Williams says. But, he accomplishes this with aplomb, creating poetry that resonates deeply in a way that doesn’t involve complicated language or forms.




