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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

E. E. Cummings
E. E. Cummings, 1958 by Edward Estlin Cummings...
E. E. Cummings, 1958 by Edward Estlin Cummings, Oil on canvas (Photo credit: cliff1066™)
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Post Author: polyarchivist

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