E.E. Cummings
if everything happens that can't be done dive for dreams
when faces called flowers float out of the ground 95 poems, 92
what if a much of a which of a wind spring is like a perhaps hand
all which isn't singing is mere talking one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:
in time of daffodils (who know may i feel said he
up into anyone lived in a pretty how town
this is the garden O sweet
since feeling (is 5, Four, VII) silence
proud me up at does
it is at moments i shall
i have found enter no
Humanity all which
All Ignorance Toboggans Into Know As Freedom is a Breakfastfood

Somewhere I Have Never Travelled

When God Decided to Invent
Since Feeling is First Life is More True Than Reason Will Deceive
Who Are You,Little I In Just
Dying is Fine)But Death There Are So Many Tictoc
I Like My Body When It Is With Your She Being Brand
L(A Old Age Sticks


if everything happens that can't be done

if everything happens that can't be done 

if everything happens that can't be done 
(and anything's righter 
than books 
could plan) 
the stupidest teacher will almost guess 
(eith a run 
skip 
around we go yes) 
there's nothing as something as one 
one hasn't a why or because or although 
(and buds know better 
than books 
don't grow) 
one's anything old being everything new 
(with a what 
which 
around we come who) 
one's everanything so 
so world is a leaf so tree is a bough 
(and birds sing sweeter 
than books 
tell how) 
so here is away and so your is a my 
(with a down 
up 
around again fly) 
forever was never till now 
now i love you and you love me 
(and books are shutter 
than books 
it is at moments after i have dreamed
can be) 
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall 
(with a shout 
each 
around we go all) 
there's somebody calling who's we 
we're anything brighter than even the sun 
(we're everything greater 
than books 
might mean) 
we're everyanything more than believe 
(with a spin 
leap 
alive we're alive) 
we're wonderful one times one 

dive for dreams

dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind) 
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward) 
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding) 
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for good likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth) 
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds 
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were. 

silently if, out of not knowable 

silently if, out of not knowable 
night's utmost nothing,wanders a little guess 
(only which is this world)more my life does 
not leap than with the mystery your smile 
sings or if(spiralling as luminous 
they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams, 
less into heaven certainly earth swims 
than each my deeper death becomes your kiss 
losing through you what seemed myself,i find 
selves unimaginably mine;beyond 
sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears 
yours is the light by which my spirit's born: 
yours is the darkness of my soul's return 
-you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars 

when faces called flowers float out of the ground


when faces called flowers float out of the ground
and breathing is wishing and wishing is having-
but keeping is downward and doubting and never
-it's april (yes,april;my darling)it's spring!
yes the pretty birds frolic as spry as can fly
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
yes the little fish gambol as glad as can be
(yes the mountains are dancing together) 
when every leaf opens without any sound
and wishing is having and having is giving-
but keeping is doting and nothing and nonsense
-alive;we're alive,dear:it's(kiss me now)spring!
now the pretty birds hover so she and so he
now the little fish quiver so you and so i
(now the mountains are dancing, the mountains) 
when more than was lost has been found has been found
and having is giving and giving is living-
but keeping is darkness and winter and cringing 
-it's spring(all our night becomes day)o,it's spring!
all the pretty birds dive to the heart of the sky
all the little fish climb through the mind of the sea
(all the mountains are dancing;are dancing) 

voices to voices, lip to lip

voices to voices, lip to lip
i swear (to noone everyone) constitutes
undying; or whatever this and that petal confutes . . .
to exist being a peculiar form of sleep 
what's beyond logic happens beneath will;
nor can these moments be translated: i say
that even after April
by God there is no excuse for May 
-bring forth your flowers and machinery: scuplture and prose
flowers guess and miss
machinery is the more accurate, yes
it delivers the goods, Heaven knows 
(yet are we mindful, though not as yet awake,
of ourselves which shout and cling, being
for a little while and which easily break
in spite of the best overseeing) 
i mean that the blond abscence of any program
except last and always and first to live
makes unimportant what i and you belive;
not for philosophy does this rose give a damn. . . 
bring on your fireworks, which are a mixed
splendor of piston and of pistil; very well
provided an instant may be fixed
so that it will not rub, like any other pastel. 
(While you and i have lips and voices which
are for kissing and to sing with
who cares if some oneyed son for a bitch
invents an instrument to measure Spring with? 
each dream nascitur, is not made . . . )
why then to Hell with that: the other; this,
since the thing perhaps is
to eat flower and not to be afraid. 

what if a much of a which of a wind


what if a much of a which of a wind
gives the truth to summer's lie;
bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun
and yanks immortal stars awry?
Blow king to beggar and queen to seem
(blow friend to fiend: blow space to time)
_when skies are hanged and oceans drowned,
the single secret will still be man 
what if a keen of a lean wind flays
screaming hills with sleet and snow:
strangles valleys by ropes of things
and stifles forests in white ago?
Blow hope to terror; blow seeing to blind
(blow pity to envy and soul to mind)
_whose hearts are mountains, roots are trees,
it's they shall cry hello to the spring 
what if a dawn of a doom of a dream
bites this universe in two,
peels forever out of his grave
and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?
Blow soon to never and never to twice
(blow life to isn't: blow death to was)
_all nothing's only our hugest home;
the most who die, the more we live. 

95 poems, 92

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you 
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart 
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) 
nothing false and possible is love
(who's imagined,therefore is limitless)
love's to giving as to keeping's give;
as yes is to if,love is to yes 
must's a schoolroom in the month of may:
life's the deathboard where all now turns when
(love's a universe beyond obey
or command,reality or un-) 
proudly depths above why's first because
(faith's last doubt and humbly heights below)
kneeling,we-true lovers-pray that us
will ourselves continue to outgrow 
all whose mosts if you have known and i've
only we our least begin to guess 

spring is like a perhaps hand


Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere)arranging
a window,into which people look(while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here)and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and from moving New and
Old things,while
people stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there)and

without breaking anything.

all which isn't singing is mere talking


all which isn't singing is mere talking
and all talking's talking to oneself
(whether that oneself be sought or seeking
master or disciple sheep or wolf) 
gush to it as diety or devil
-toss in sobs and reasons threats and smiles
name it cruel fair or blessed evil-
it is you (ne i)nobody else 
drive dumb mankind dizzy with haranguing
-you are deafened every mother's son-
all is merely talk which isn't singing
and all talking's to oneself alone 
but the very song of(as mountains
feel and lovers)singing is silence 

one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:


one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:
which halves reintegrating,shall occur
no death and any quantity;but than
all numerable mosts the actual more 
minds ignorant of stern miraculous
this every truth-beware of heartless them
(given the scalpel,they dissect a kiss;
or,sold the reason,they undream a dream) 
one is the song which fiends and angels sing:
all murdering lies by mortals told make two.
Let liars wilt,repaying life they're loaned;
we(by a gift called dying born)must grow 
deep in dark least ourselves remembering
love only rides his year.
All lose,whole find 

in time of daffodils (who know


in time of daffodils (who know 
the goal of living is to grow) 
forgetting why,remembering how 
in time of lilacs who proclaim 
the aim of waking is to dream, 
remember so (forgetting seem) 
in time of roses (who amaze 
our now and here with praise) 
forgetting if, remember yes 
in time of all sweet things beyond 
whatever mind may comprehend, 
remember seek (forgetting find) 
and in a mystery to be 
(when time from time shall set us free) 
forgetting me, remember me

may i feel said he


may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she 
(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she 
(let's go said he
not too far said she
what' s too far said he
where you are said she) 
may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she 
may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you' re willing said he
(but you' re killing said she 
but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she 
(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she 
(cccome? said he
ummm said she)
you' re divine-!said he
(you are mine said she) 

up into


up into the silence the green
silence with a white earth in it

you will (kiss me) go

out into the morning the young
morning with a warm world in it

(kiss me) you will go

on into the sunlight the fine
sunlight with a firm day in it

you will go (kiss me

down into your memory and
a memory and memory

i) kiss me (will go)

anyone lived in a pretty how town


anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did.

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

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

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain 

this is the garden

	this is the garden: colours come and go,
	frail azures fluttering from night's outer wing
	strong silent greens serenely lingering,
	absolute lights like baths of golden snow.
	This is the garden: pursed lips do blow
	upon cool flutes within wide glooms, and sing
	(of harps celestial to the quivering string)
	invisible faces hauntingly and slow.

	This is the garden.   Time shall surely reap
	and on Death's blade lie many a flower curled,
	in other lands where other songs be sung;
	yet stand They here enraptured, as among
	The slow deep trees perpetual of sleep
	some silver-fingered fountain steals the world.

O sweet

O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

        fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

        beauty  .how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy  knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
        (but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

        thou answerest


them only with

                spring)

since feeling (is 5, Four, VII)

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers.  Don't cry
- the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other; then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

silence

silence

.is
a
looking

bird:the

turn
ing;edge,of
life

(inquiry before snow       

(e e c)

proud

proud of his scientific attitude

and liked the prince of wales wife wants to die
but the doctors won't let her comman considers frood
whom he pronounces young mistaken and
cradles in rubbery one somewhat hand
the paper destinies of nations sic
item a bounceless period unshy
the empty house is full O Yes of guk
rooms daughter item son a woopsing queer
colon hobby photography never has plumbed
the heights of prowst but respects artists if
they are sincere proud of his scientif
ic attitude and liked the king of)hear

yet the godless are the dull and the dull are the damned

once like

(once like a spark)

if strangers meet
life begins-
not poor not rich
(only aware)
kind neither
nor cruel
(only complete)
i not not you
not possible;
only truthful
-truthfully,once
if strangers(who
deep our most are
selves)touch:
forever

(and so to dark)

me up at does

Me up at does

out of the floor
quietly Stare

a poisoned mouse


still who alive

is asking What
have i done that

You wouldn't have

it is at moments

        it is at moments after i have dreamed
        of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
        when (being fool to fancy) i have deemed

        with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
        at moments when the glassy darkness holds

        the genuine apparition of your smile
        (it was through tears always)and silence moulds
        such strangeness as was mine a little while;

        moments when my once more illustrious arms
        are filled with fascination, when my breast
        wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

        one pierced moment whiter than the rest
        
        -turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
        i watch the roses of the day grow deep.

i shall

i shall imagine life
is not worth dying,if
(and when)roses complain
their beauties are in vain

but though mankind persuades
itself that every weed's
a rose,roses(you feel
certain)will only smile

i have found

        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 air in utterable coolness

        deeds of green thrilling light
                                      with thinned

        newfragile yellows

                          lurch and.press

        -in the woods
                     which
                          stutter
                                 and

                                    sing

        And the coolness of your smile is
        stirringofbirds between my arms;but
        i should rather than anything
        have(almost when hugeness will shut
        quietly)almost,
                       your kiss

Humanity

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you 
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you're hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you're flush pride keeps 

you from the pawn shops and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you 
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it's there and sitting down

on it
and because you are 
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you

enter no

enter no(silence is the blood whose flesh
is singing)silence:but unsinging.  In
spectral such hugest how hush,one

dead leaf stirring makes a crash

-far away(as far as alive)lies
april;and i breathe-move-and-seem some
perpetually roaming whylessness-

autumn has gone:will winter never come?

o come,terrible anonymity;enfold
phantom me with the murdering minus of cold
-open this ghost with millionary knives of wind-
scatter his nothing all over what angry skies and

gently
      (very whiteness:absolute peace,
never imaginable mystery)
                         descend

all which

                        all which isn't singing is mere talking
                        and all talking's talking to oneself
                        (whether that oneself be sought or seeking
                        master or disciple sheep or wolf)

                        gush to it as diety or devil
                        -toss in sobs and reasons threats and smiles
                        name it cruel fair or blessed evil-
                        it is you (ne i)nobody else

                        drive dumb mankind dizzy with haranguing
                        -you are deafened every mother's son-
                        all is merely talk which isn't singing
                        and all talking's to oneself alone

                        but the very song of(as mountains
                        feel and lovers)singing is silence

Pity this Busy Monster,Manunkind
pity this busy monster,manunkind,

not.  Progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim (death and life safely beyond)

plays with the bigness of his littleness
--electrons deify one razorblade
into a mountainrange;lenses extend

unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish
returns on its unself.
                                A world of made
is not a world of born--pity poor flesh

and trees, poor stars and stones,but never this
fine specimen of hypermagical

ultraomnipotence.  We doctors know

a hopeless case if--listen:there's a hell
of a good universe next door;let's go
 

    All Ignorance Toboggans Into Know
all ignorance toboggans into know
and trudges up to ignorance again:
but winter's not forever,even snow
melts;and if spring should spoil the game,what then?

all history's a winter sport or three:
but were it five,i'd still insist that all
history is too small for even me;
for me and you,exceedingly too small.

Swooop (Shrill collective myth) into thy grave
merely to toil the scale to shrillerness
per every madge and mabel dick and dave
--tomorrow is our permanent address

and there's they'll scarcely find us (if they do,
we'll move away still further: into now
 

    As Freedom is a Breakfastfood
as freedom is a breakfastfood
or truth can live with right and wrong
or molehills are from mountains made
--long enough and just so long
will being pay the rent of seem
and genius please the talentgang
and water most encourage flame

as hatracks into peachtrees grow
or hopes dance best on bald men's hair
and every finger is a toe
and any courage is a fear
--long enough and just so long
will the impure think all things pure
and hornets wail by children stung

or as the seeing are the blind
and robins never welcome spring
nor flatfolk prove their world is round
nor dingsters die at break of dong
and common's rare and millstones float
--long enough and just so long
tomorrow will not be too late

worms are the words but joy's the voice
down shall go which and up come who
breasts will be breats thighs will be thighs
deeds cannot dream what dreams can do
--time is a tree (this life one leaf)
but love is the sky and i am for you
just so long and long enough
 

    Somewhere I Have Never Travelled
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everwhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(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)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
 

    When God Decided to Invent
when god decided to invent
everything he took one
breath bigger than a circustent
and everything began

when man determined to destroy
himself he picked the was
of shall and finding only why
smashed it into because
 

    Since Feeling is First
since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all the flowers.  Don’t cry
--the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other:then
laugh,leaning back into my arms
and life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

    Life is More True Than Reason Will Deceive
life is more true than reason will deceive
(more secret or than madness did reveal)
deeper is life than lose:higher than have
--but beauty is more each than living’s all

multiplied with infinity sans if
the mightiest meditations of mankind
canceled are by one merely opening leaf
(beyond whose nearness there is no beyond)

or does some littler bird than eyes can learn
look up to silence and completely sing?
futures are obsolete:pasts are unborn
(here less than nothing’s more than everything)

death,as men call him, ends what they call men
-but beauty is more now than dying’s when

    . . . (And Anything's Righter
. . . (and anything’s righter
than books
could plan)
 
. . . (and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)

. . . (we are everything greater
than books
might mean)

    Who Are You,Little I
who are you,little i

(five or six years old)
peering from some high

window;at the gold


of november sunset

(and feeling: that if day
has to become night

this is a beautiful way)

   In Just
in Just-
spring      when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

whistles      far      and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far      and      wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's
spring
and
     the

        goat-footed

balloonMan      whistles
far
and
wee

   Dying is Fine)But Death
dying is fine)but Death

?o
baby
i

wouldn't like

Death if Death
were
good:for

when (instead of stopping to think)you

begin to feel of it,dying
's miraculous
why?be

cause dying is

perfectly natural;perfectly
putting
it miidly lively(but

Death

is strictly
scientific
& artificial &

evil & legal)

we thank thee
god
almighty for dying

forgive us,o life!the sin of Death

   There Are So Many Tictoc
there are so many tictoc
clocks everywhere telling people
what toctic time it is for
tictic instance five toc minutes toc
past six tic

Spring is not regulated and does
not get out of order nor do
its hands a little jerking move
over numbers slowly

                                we do not
wind it up it has no weights
spring wheels inside of
its slender self no indeed dear
nothing of the kind.

(So,when kiss Spring comes
we'll kiss each other on kiss the kiss
lips because tic clocks toc don't make
a toctic difference
to kisskiss you and to
kiss me)

   I Like My Body When It Is With Your
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

   She Being Brand
she being Brand

-new;and you
know consequently a
little stiff i was
careful of her and(having

thoroughly oiled the universal
joint tested my gas felt of
her radiator made sure her springs were O.

K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her

up,slipped the
clutch(and then someone got into reverse she
kicked what
the hell)next
minute i was back in neutral tried and

again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg.     ing(my

lev-er Right-
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
second-in-to-high like
greasedlightening)just as we turned the corner of Divinity

avenue i touched the accelerator and give

her the juice,good
                           (it
was the first ride and believe i we was
happy to see how nice she acted right up to
the last minute coming back down by the Public
Gardens i slammed on

the
internalexpanding
&
externalcontracting
brakes Bothatonce and

brought allof her tremB
-ling
to a:dead.

stand-
;Still)

   L(A
l(a

le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness

   Old Age Sticks
old age sticks
up Keep
Off
signs)&

youth yanks them
down(old
age
cries No

Tres)&(pas)
youth laughs
(sing
old age

scolds Forbid
den Stop
Must
n't Don't

&)youth goes
right on
gr
owing old


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