Category: E.E. Cummings

E.E. CummingsE.E. Cummings

now does our world descend
the path to nothingness
(cruel now cancels kind;
friends turn to enemies)
therefore lament,my dream
and don a doer’s doom

create is now contrive;
imagined,merely know
(freedom:what makes a slave)
therefore,my life,lie down
and more by most endure
all that you never were

hide,poor dishonoured mind
who thought yourself so wise;
and much could understand
concerning no and yes:
if they’ve become the same
it’s time you unbecame

where climbing was and bright
is darkness and to fall
(now wrong’s the only right
since brave are cowards all)
therefore despair,my heart
and die into the dirt

but from this endless end
of briefer each our bliss–
where seeping eyes go blind
(where lips forget to kiss)
where everything’s nothing
–arise,my soul;and sing.

– E.E. Cummings, “62” from 73 Poems (punctuation and spacing as in original)

E.E. CummingsE.E. Cummings

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 this wedding)

never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for god likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)

– E.E. Cummings, “60” from 95 Poems

E.E. CummingsE.E. Cummings

what Got him was Noth

ing & nothing’s exAct
ly what any
one Living(or some
body Dead
like
even a Poet)could
hardly express what
i Mean is
what knocked him over Wasn’t
(for instance)the Knowing your

whole(yes god

damned)life is a Flop or even
to Feel how
Everything(dreamed
& hoped &
prayed for
months & weeks & days & years
& nights &
forever)is Less Than
Nothing(which would have been

Something)what got him was nothing

– E.E. Cummings, “30” from 95 Poems (punctuation and spacing as in original)

E.E. CummingsE.E. Cummings

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 iff
the mightiest meditations of mankind
cancelled 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

– E.E. Cummings, “LII” from 1 X 1 (punctuation and spacing as in original)

Making locomotive rosesMaking locomotive roses

“If a poet is anybody,he is somebody to whom things matter very little—somebody who is obsessed by Making.     Like all obsessions,the Making obsession has disadvantages;for instance,my only interest in making money would be to make it.     Fortunately,however,I should prefer to make almost anything else,including locomotives and roses.     It is with roses and locomotives(not to mention acrobats Spring electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagra Falls)that my ‘poems’ are competing.” – E.E. Cummings, is 5 (punctuation and spacing as in original)