e.e. cummings–yours is the music for no instrument

June 12, 2006 0 Comment

yours is the music for no instrument
yours the preposterous colour unbeheld

–mine the unbought contemptuous intent
till this our flesh 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.

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