. . . Reality has put itself so solidly before me there's little need for mystery . . . Except for us, for how we take the world to us, and make it more, more than we are, more even than itself. —from "The World" The awards given to C.K. Williams' two most recent books—a National Book Award for and a Pulitzer Prize for —complete the process by which Williams, long admired for the intensity and formal daring of his work, has come to be recognized as one of the few truly great living American poets. Williams treats the characteristic subjects of a poet's maturity—the loss of friends, the love of grandchildren, the receding memories of childhood, the baffling illogic of current events—with an intensity and drive that recall not only his recent work but also his early books, published forty years ago. is a direct and resonant book: searing, hearfelt, permanent. is the winner of the 2003 National Book Award for Poetry.