Everything that is dead quivers. Not only the things of poetry, stars, moon, wood, flowers, but even a white trouser button glittering out of a puddle in the street… Everything has a secret soul, which is silent more often than it speaks. ― Wassily Kandinsky
dive for dreamsor a slogan may topple you(trees are their rootsand wind is wind) trust your heartif the seas catch fire(and live by lovethough the stars walk backward) – E.E. Cummings, from “[dive for dreams],” 95 Poems. (Liveright August 17, 2002) Originally published 1958.
[)when what hugs stopping earth than silent is] )when what hugs stopping earth than silent is more silent than more than much more is or total sun oceaning than any this tear jumping from each most least eye of star and without was if minus and shall be immeasurable happenless unnow shuts more than open… Continue reading E.E. Cummings
You are tired, (I think) Of the always puzzle of living and doing; And so am I. — E.E. Cummings, from “[You are tired],” Etcetera: The Unpublished Poems of E.E. Cummings. (Liveright February 5, 2001)
(with her beauty more than snow dexterous and fugitive my very frail lady drifting distinctly, moving like a myth in the uncertain morning, with April feet like sudden flowers and all her body filled with May) — E.E. Cummings, from “Puella Mea,” The Dial, January 1921.
i love you much(most beautiful darling) more than anyone on the earth and i like you better than everything in the sky. — E.E. Cummings, from “i love you much(most beautiful darling),” Complete Poems, 1913-1962. (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich; Second Printing edition, 1980)
what a wonderful thing is the end of a string (murmurs little you-i as the hill becomes nil) and will somebody tell me why people let go — E.E. Cummings, from “o by the by”, Selected Poems 1923-1958. (Penguin Books, January 1, 1963)
Morning Poem I’ve got to tell you how I love you always I think of it on grey mornings with death in my mouth the tea is never hot enough then and the cigarette dry the maroon robe chills me I need you and look out the window at the noiseless snow At night on… Continue reading Frank O’Hara
maggie and milly and molly and may maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one day) and maggie discovered a shell that sang so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and milly befriended a stranded star whose rays five languid fingers were; and molly was chased by a horrible thing… Continue reading E.E. Cummings
Jane Awake The opals hiding your lids as you sleep, as you ride ponies mysteriously, spring to bloom like the blue flowers of autumn each nine o’clock. And curls tumble languorously towards the yawning rubber band, tan, your hand pressing all that riotous black sleep into the quiet form of daylight and its sunny disregard… Continue reading Frank O’Hara
The Vale of Soul-Making 