. I’ve dived back into the poetry of e e cummings over the last few days....it was his poem ‘somewhere, gladly beyond, that first inspired me to know more of his work....since then I have found him to be one of those writers whose work is the subject of endless academic study & interpretation....how joyless to not engage emotionally with this delicate and playful music....the experience of standing in a large, beautifully still place thinking & feeling is one that cannot be understood by study & so it is, I believe, with anything that touches ones self....I have no doubt that I sometimes miss what e e was talking about, perhaps sometimes I use his words to fit my own mood....but what I do believe is that in spirit I am taking from these works something that adds to my day....


Spring is like a perhaps hand
(which comes carefully
out of Nowhere) arranging
a window, into which people look (while
people stare
arranging and changing placing
carefully there a strange
thing and a known thing here) and

changing everything carefully

spring is like a perhaps
Hand in a window
(carefully to
and fro moving New and
Old things, while
People stare carefully
moving a perhaps
fraction of flower here placing
an inch of air there) and

without breaking anything.


. I am reminded of Bolton Abbey days, sat by the church making bird sounds with blades of grass pressed between out thumbs, me, Pheobe & another....of the laughter as we hid & watched people try to see form where these strange sounds came....bread & salami & a cool drink....oh & evenings with sleep in our eyes & a day full of warmth inside us for food....


. Isolde says: i got a huge victorian school-desk for dinka from freecycle today, complete with inkwell & integrated bench that seats 2.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog