he's my favorite poet, you know. i'm gonna do this from memory so it might not be 100% accurate, but my favorite one is;
"your birthday comes to tell me this
-each luckiest of lucky days i've loved,shall love,do love you,was
and will be and my birthday is"
and i have absolutely no idea why it's my favorite. i hate birthdays. i think they're stupid and lame; but something within this poem inspires a nostalgia for the sort of unconditional love that doesn't really exist anymore. it's quite important to me, this poem. still i don't know why.
the funny thing is, to this point all poetry to me except for ee has been a phase. bukowski i can take or leave. i still have love for ezra pound and langston hughes, but for the most part ee is the only one i REALLY read. he's certainly the only one i own books of.
unconditional love is a tricky beast. too tricky to conquer here perhaps. i will smash it another time.
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"your birthday comes to tell me this
-each luckiest of lucky days
i've loved,shall love,do love you,was
and will be and my birthday is"
and i have absolutely no idea why it's my favorite. i hate birthdays. i think they're stupid and lame; but something within this poem inspires a nostalgia for the sort of unconditional love that doesn't really exist anymore. it's quite important to me, this poem. still i don't know why.
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e e is basically the man. Have pseudo-intellectual college jerks ever told you, "e e cummings is a phase?" It's the worst.
and, i think unconditional love still exists, somewhere...
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unconditional love is a tricky beast. too tricky to conquer here perhaps. i will smash it another time.
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