you being in love
will tell who softly asks in love,

am i separated from your body smile brain hands merely
to become the jumping puppets of a dream? oh i mean:
entirely having in my careful how
careful arms created this at length
inexcusable, this inexplicable pleasure--you go from several
persons: believe me that strangers arrive
when i have kissed you into a memory
slowly, oh seriously--that since and if you disappear

solemnly
myselves
ask "life, the question how do i drink dream smile

and how do i prefer this face to another and
why do i weep eat sleep--what does the whole intend"
they wonder. oh and they cry "to be, being, that i am alive
this absurd fraction in its lowest terms
with everything cancelled
but shadows
--what does it all come down to? love? Love
if you like and i like, for the reason that i
hate people and lean out of this window is love, love
and the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love and the reason
that i do not fall into this street is love."

E.E. Cummings

i love how ee cummings was such a novel person in his time. i love his 'grammar and punctuation is shot to hell' attitude. and most of his poems are about love and love and love and i love that even though i don't know exactly what love is but i love it all the same. i've discovered the genius of DH Lawrence. and i have not written poetry in a long time, which makes me feel very inadequate and dissatisfied. i have no muse, i need a muse, who will be my muse? i write best when i am in love, and at present, i am not really enraptured by anything/anyone or bitter about anything/anyone of importance. leading a loveless life, how utterly sad!

+ posted by M @ 4:11 PM