Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

since feeling is first (1926)

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

— e. e. cummings (1894-1962)


His tools were secular, but he practiced a religion nonetheless. It was the romantic individualist’s religion of the heart, in which love is not an emotion but a deity. Its creed was faith in the miracle of man’s individuality, his capacity for delight in beauty, in spring, in flowers, in girls. Its galaxy of devils, which grew as Cummings observed the modern world (“a hoax of clocks and calendars”), included dry intellects, science, mass thought, security worship, Sigmund Freud—everything inside man or outside him that tends to limit his individualism, to reduce his sense of wonder.

(Source:TIME – E. E. Cummings: Poet of the Heart)

Written by cthulhu

July 22, 2008 at 10:50 am

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