Taintless Air

The Sawtooth mountains, miles away and snow covered to their base, have been so clearly visible the last few days.  The moon, also, has seemed especially intense.  I went looking through my journals for moon related writing and came across this piece by Cummings, which, although I posted it a few years ago on this blog,  I am going to recycle:

who knows if the moon’s
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky–filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should

get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we’d go up higher with all the pretty people

than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody’s ever visited,where

always
it’s
Spring)and everyone’s
in love and flowers pick themselves

— e.e. cummings —

Poetry is meant to be revisited right?

XIV (E.E. Cummings) (is 5)

it is so long since my heart has been with yours

shut by our mingling arms through
a darkness where new lights begin and
increase,
since your mind has walked into
my kiss as a stranger
into the streets and colours of a town–

that i have perhaps forgotten
how,always(from
these hurrying crudities
of blood and flesh)Love
coins His most gradual gesture,

and whittles life to eternity

–after which our separating selves become museums
filled with skillfully stuffed memories

La Guerre “V” (page 58) (E.E. Cummings)


O Sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

       fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
,has the naughty thumb 
of science prodded
thy

    beauty     .how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
    (but
true

to the incomparable 
couch of death thy
rhythmic 
lover

      thou answerest


them only with

              spring)


E.E. Cummings Complete Works

Poem 66 from the book “XAIPE” by E.E. Cummings

the great advantage of being alive
(instead of undying)is not so much
that mind no more can disprove than prove
what heart may feel and soul may touch
–the great(my darling)happens to be
that love are in we,that love are in we

and here is a secret they never will share
for whom create is less than have
or one times one than when times where–
that we are in love,that we are in love:
with us they’ve nothing times nothing to do
(for love are in we am in i are in you)

this world(as timorous itsters all
to call their cowardice quite agree)
shall never discover our touch and feel
–for love are in we are in love are in we;
for you are and i am and we are(above
and under all possible worlds)in love

a billion brains may coax undeath
from fancied fact and spaceful time–
no heart can leap,no soul can breathe
but by the sizeless truth of a dream
whose sleep is the sky and the earth and the sea.
For love are in you am in i are in we