yours is the music for no instrument
yours the preposterous colour unbeheld
—mine the unbought contemptuous intent
till this our felsh merely shall be excelled
by speaking flower
                      (if I have made songs
it does not greatly matter to the sun,
nor will rain care
                      cautiously who prolongs
unserious twilight)Shadows have begun
the hair’s worm huge,ecstatic,rathe….
yours are the poems i do not write.
In this at least we have got a bulge on death,
silence,and the keenly musical light
of sudden nothing….la bocca mia “he
kissed wholly trembling”
                              or so thought the lady.

  • 0
  • 1
Login to comment...

Liked or faved by...


Other works by E. E. Cummings...

Some poets who follow E. E. Cummings...

R. L. McCallum Alison Furey Victor Kane Christina McClain Raquel Cano Cardona Kay