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e.e.cummings

This poem was one of my favorites as a child. It made absolutely no sense, until it did. Priding himself on what he called "New Art," Cummings was controversial and offensive, but posthumously became one of the most read poets of the 20th century, second only to Robert Frost. There is a level of understandable nonsense in his use of language, from his lack of capital letters to his use of nouns as verbs and verbs as nouns and especially his semantics and syntax. Yesterday was his birthday, and so he came to mind. His poetry also reminds me of the distortion of truth in our world today, and the need for listening in new and different ways to make sense of it all. Poets are so good at helping us do that.

In a lecture at Harvard, Cummings said: "If poetry is your goal, you've got to forget all about punishments and all about rewards and all about self styled obligations and duties and responsibilities etcetera ad infinitum and remember one thing only: that it's you — nobody else — who determine your destiny and decide your fate. Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else. Toms can be Dicks and Dicks can be Harrys, but none of them can ever be you. There's the artist's responsibility; and the most awful responsibility on earth."



anyone lived in a pretty how town

(with up so floating many bells down)

spring summer autumn winter

he sang his didn’t he danced his did.

Women and men(both little and small)

cared for anyone not at all

they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same

sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few

and down they forgot as up they grew

autumn winter spring summer)

that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf

she laughed his joy she cried his grief

bird by snow and stir by still

anyone’s any was all to her

someones married their everyones

laughed their cryings and did their dance

(sleep wake hope and then)they

said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon

(and only the snow can begin to explain

how children are apt to forget to remember

with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess

(and noone stooped to kiss his face)

busy folk buried them side by side

little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep

and more by more they dream their sleep

noone and anyone earth by april

wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)

summer autumn winter spring

reaped their sowing and went their came

sun moon stars rain

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