Williams was not, like Dickens or like Faulkner, an impersonator. But the habit of listening to voices extended to his own voice, so that he could write down the way he heard himself phrasing things:

                 THE POEM
 
                 It's all in
                 the sound. A song.
                 Seldom a song. It should
 
                 be a song—made of
                 particulars, wasps,
                 a gentian—something
                 immediate, open
 
                   scissors, a lady's
                   eyes—waking
                   centrifugal, centripetal

You hear the staccato phrasing of a taut voice. You also hear things speech wouldn't know how to clarify: the auditory relationships … with the white space prolonging the tension after "should"; and "open" floating between "immediate," which it clarifies, and "scissors," which it specifies (the delay of the white space again withholding "scissors" till we've had time to take "open" with immediate"). "A lady's," similarly, seems to go with "scissors" till round the corner of the line we encounter "eyes...