The irrepressible E.E. Cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

E. E. Cummings - 1894-1962

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

Post Impressions (VI)

into the strenuous briefness

Life:

handorgans and April

darkness,friends

 i charge laughing.

Into the hair-thin tints

of yellow dawn,

into the women-coloured twilight

i smilingly

glide. I

into the big vermilion departure

swim,sayingly;

 (Do you think?)the

i do,world

is probably made

of roses & hello:

(of solongs and,ashes)

(and one more for good measure, because as of Wednesday I shall be the yonger deadfromtheneckup graduate!)

[yonder deadfromtheneckup graduate]

yonder deadfromtheneckup graduate of a
somewhat obscure to be sure university spends
her time looking picturesque under

the as it happens quite
erroneous impression that he

nascitur