[lit-ideas] Re: Poetry x 2 = Sabbatical

  • From: JimKandJulieB@xxxxxxx
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sat, 14 Oct 2006 05:05:43 EDT

Oops, sorry about that.  It's 3:50 in the a.m. and I couldn't sleep --  
whaddya expect?
I'll contribute a couple (ok, 3) of my fav Cummings poems -- The  first is 
timely and the first poem of his I loved.  My Mother had it done  in 
w/ a water-paint background for me for a gift once.  It will  always hang on 
my wall.
Julie Krueger
" i thank You God for most this amazing  
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees 
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings;and of the gay 
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being doubt unimaginable  You? 

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened.)"
"since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;
wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world
my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers.  Don't cry
--the best gesture of my brain is less than your eyelids' flutter which  says
we are for each other:then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph 
And death i think is no parenthesis"
"life is more true than reason will deceive 
(more secret or than madness did reveal)
deeper is life than lose:higher than have
--but beauty is more each than living's all
multiplied with infinity sans if
the mightiest meditations of mankind
canceled are by one merely opening leaf
(beyond whose nearness there is no beyond)
or does some littler bird than eyes can learn
look up to silence and completely sing?
futures are obsolete;pasts are unborn
(here less than nothing's more than everything)
death,as man call him,ends what they call men 
--but beauty is more now than dying's when."

========Original Message========     Subj: [lit-ideas] Re: Poetry x 2 = 
Sabbatical  Date: 10/13/2006 11:46:24 P.M. Central Standard Time  From: 
_eyost1132@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx (mailto:eyost1132@xxxxxxxxxxxxx)   To: 
_lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx (mailto:lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx)   Sent on:    
>>I was never very fond of Merwin, and this  poem doesn't 
cause me to change my mind.

Merwin's early stuff, from  _The Lice_ is splendid, a sort of 
surrealist aphorism. Maybe you'd like this  one:

The River of Bees
by WS Merwin

In a dream I returned  to the river of bees
Five orange trees by the bridge and
Beside two mills  my house
Into whose courtyard a blind man followed
The goats and stood  singing
Of what was older

Soon it will be fifteen years

He was  old he will have fallen into his eyes

I took my eyes
A long way to the  calendars
Room after room asking how shall I live

One of the ends is  made of streets
One man processions carry through it
Empty bottles  their
Images of hope
It was offered to me by name

Once once and  once
In the same city I was born
Asking what shall I say

He will  have fallen into his mouth
Men think they are better than grass

I  return to his voice rising like a forkful of hay

He was old he is not  real nothing is real
Nor the noise of death drawing water

We are the  echo of the future

On the door it says what to do to survive
But we  were not born to survive
Only to  live

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