like rain. no one could say anything more. 010515
melvinwang what a lowercase name 010515
recovering addict read his political satire

it always puts me in stitches
oh pee um maggie and milly and molly and may
wend down to the beach
(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

for whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find at the sea
silentbob "next to of course god america i
love you land of the pilgrims' and so forth oh
say can you see by the dawn's early my
country 'tis of centuries come and go
and are no more what of it we should worry
in every language even deafanddumb
thy sons acclaim your glorious name by gorry
by jingo by gee by gosh by gum
why talk of beauty what could be more beaut-
iful than these heroic happy dead
who rushed like lions to the roaring slaughter
they did not stop to think they died instead
then shall the voice of liberty be mute?"

He spoke. And drank rapidly a glass of water
MollyCule no one, not even the rain, has such small hands 010606
unhinged i love that one...see: mike

i read most of 'tulips' from 'tulips & chimneys' tonight
this one is from '&''s sonnets-actualities

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric fur,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh....And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new
Special K VII was the first love poem I sent to him. I printed it into the pages of a tiny little handmade book, bound in leather, cover ornamented with a small brass sun, illustrated with images of Paolo and Francesca. (I was, you see, caught up in the tempest.) I think that, at the time, it may have been too frank a gift, but it became a self-fulfilled prophesy in the course of our relationship. And damned if I didn't mean every single word of it. 010607
Dafremen Girls are silly that way..aren't they? 010607
Special K Hee hee, we sure are! *Giggle*

...But that doesn't do anything to diminish how much that guy and I dug each other. Hell, we still dig each other, which is good because we're spared that awkward "I said WHAT?!" misery of the post-relationship denial.
Dafremen And WHO would want to diminish that?! 010607
Special K My point exactly. 010607
enriquecito she's pointy like that, dude. 010614
Annie111 i have found what you are like
the rain
(who feathers frightened fields)
with the superior dust-of-sleep, wields
easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike
the aire in utterable coolness
deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned
newfragile yellows
lurch and press
-inthe woods
And the coolness of your smile is
stirring of birds between my arms; but
i should rather than anything
have (almost when hugeness will shut quietly) almost, your kiss.
anti-social butterfly ygUDuh

ydoan o
yunnuhstan dem
yguduh ged

yunnuhstan dem doidee
yguduh ged riduh
ydoan o nudn


lidl yelluh bas
tuds weer goin


-e.e. cummings
ClairE Annie, I have never read that one.

He stopped capitalizing his name because one of his father's workers never did, and he was struck by the humility of the man.
Or of the man's self_concept.

I heart old e.e.
sphinxradio i do not know what it is about you that closes / and opens;only something in me understands / the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) 011208
ClairE I quoted you in bed. 020107
Mind(e.e) I HEART ee
i wish i was ee immortal
reincarnated in my heart
and words
could come from
up so many bells down!
and fall onto my page
like he and i
were making love
between time space knowing bodies
just the words
and the touch
that's all that matters anyway
eklektic some of the smartest most interesing people i know love ee_cummings 020403
Kate I wish I would have asked you to read me your favourite poem back then when we were still talking. You always carry your books with you. I think one day I'll write a book and maybe you'll carry it around too. 020421
kerry spinxradio, that is my favorite ee cummings poem....
"somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond"
Kate I have currently been embarking on an e.e. cummings rampage... there are too many chalkboards at school that have a void which only an e.e. cummings poem can fill. Yesterday after track practice, I walked through the auditorium hallway and found a chalkboard on wheels that one of the choir classes had moved. This hallway is quite crowded during the schoolday. I wrote "Open your heart, I'll give you a treasure of tiniest world, a piece of forever" across the top and signed it "e.e. cummings". Tonight we had our final band concert, and everyone had to walk through that hallway with the chalkboard on the side, and as we were walking to the auditorium to preform, Jon quickly swiped his hand across the board, purposely erasing the "ings" in "cummings". So it read "e.e. cumm". Then when we walked out of the auditorium it read "e.e. cum". Tracee and I both laughed. I wonder if you saw it. I wonder if you'll see my quote written across the top of your 8th period health class, the room where we met for track today. I hope you do. Goodnight and sweet dreams, Steve. 020516
unhinged i was reading 'i six nonlectures' today (which i highly recommend to all blatherskites) and i found something that would have got the old man going.

'Fine and dandy: but so far as I am concerned, poetry and every other art was and is and forever will be strictly and distinctly a question of individuality. If poetry were anything --- like dropping an atombomb --- which anyone did, anyone could become a poet merely by doing the necessary anything; whatever that anything might or might not entail. But (as it happens) poetry is being, not doing. If you wish to follow, even at a distance, the poet's calling (and here, as always, I speak from my own totally biased and entirely personal point of view) you've got to come out of the measurable doing universe into the immeasurable house of being. I am quite aware that, wherever our socalled civilization has slithered, there's every reward and no punishment for unbeing. But if poetry is your goal, you've got to forget all about punishments and all about rewards and all about selfstyled obligations and duties and responsibilities etcetera ad infinitum and remember one thing only: that it's you ---nobody else--- who determine your destiny and decide your fate. Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else. Toms can be Dicks and Dicks can be Harrys, but none of them can ever be you. There's the artist's responsibility; and the most awful responisibility on earth. If you can take it, take it --- and be. If you can't, cheer up and go about other people's business; and do (or undo) till you drop.'

e.e. cummings from 'i & their son; nonlecture two'

i think i am going to send it to him next year.
ClairE It's like keeping two magnets apart. My body feels all out of sorts. Like I told you, e.e. cummings was wrong. My body isn't something all different-new with yours. It's only then that it becomes what it's supposed to. When it's where it's supposed to be.

Kate My new fancy is translating e.e. cummings into Latin.

Lily habet rosam
nullam rosam habeo
et ammitere est minor quam superare sed(
amor est magis quam amor

of course, I had to do your poem first.

anyone lived in a pretty how town
with up so many floating bells down...

and Cassie's favourite lines, which Cindy didn't understand...

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy, she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her
girl_jane what_if_a_much_of_which_of_a_wind 020806
imposter revolutionary-visionary

few have ever said it better
imposter your little voice
by e.e. cummings

your little voice
over the wires came leaping
and i felt suddenly
with the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
wee skipping high-heeled flames
curtsied before my eyes
or twinkling over to my side
looked up
with impertinently exquisite faces
floating hands were laid upon me
i was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing
with the pale important
stars and the humorous
dear girl
how i was crazy how i cried when i heard
over time
and tide and death
your voice
name u are cumming as in cum 060309
unhinged .

i want to read him
and ar_ammons

that's the writing i was into
when i was a teenager
what's it to you?
who go