Williams' poems are the gnashed teeth of mouths attempting to extricate the disruptiveness of identity in a either/or word. These are meaty poems, sinew, muscle, bone, blood, and filament. At times, as lurid and graphic as Francis Bacon, and equally as compelled by notions of the body. Transgender sensibilities happen after the gauze has been removed and scars constellate, but before then, scissors and knifes care only to cut. The faces that look out and care, are faces made out of the same as ours (brothers, mother, etc) they are the moving mirrors in which the new is seen. These poems show and tell this metamorphosis, and they do, pain, gore, and convalesce, and honestly and upfront as any poem or poetry can.
Spencer Williams is certainly a poet of the times and one to keep an eye on.