. fleeting....thats a word I thought of tonight - not in a negative way, more in terms of simply a word - a sound of letters arranged in a certain pattern (which reminds me of my liking for the poetry of e e cummings, which I always read as if it were a kind of music made of letters & words & spaces)....I like the word dusk too....then, a barn own flew across the road....at dusk, a fleeting flash of white against the dark blue sky....outside her dance class Pheobe checked in the wing mirror of the car that she had tied back her hair in a nice way....how wonderful to see these simple moments....
.
yes is a pleasant country:
if's wintry
(my lovely)
let's open the year
.
both is the very weather
(not either)
my treasure,
when violets appear
.
love is a deeper season
than reason;
my sweet one
(and april's where we're)
.
....- e e cummings
.
. I have several books of e e cummings poetry, including the complete poems, however, in deciding to put the poem above in this post, I took from the shelf the 'selected poems of e e cummings' that my mum bought for me on a day out in York. The words are the same as in any of the books in which it features, they are black ink on white paper....but the pages of this particular book have emotions rubbed into every page....my mum's hands turning the pages in the shop to see if it was the one to buy....her eyes scanning the words....her fingers turning it over as she enclosed it in wrapping paper....& her voice when she read from it after I had opened the parcel....with these things the words sing more beautifully from this particular book....it is the only one of it's kind in the world....

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