“Unbeing dead isn't being alive.”

ee cummings Recommended by khrystian.

“to be nobody - but - myself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make me everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting”

A Poet's Advice, ee cummings

“ ,five
ideas can swallow a man;three words im
-prison a woman for all her now:but we've
such freedom such intense digestion so
much greenness only dying makes us grow”

am was, ee cummings

“ Buffalo Bill's
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death”

Buffalo Bill's, ee cummings

“in a middle of a room
stands a suicide
sniffing a Paper rose
smiling to a self

'somewhere it is Spring and sometimes
people are in real:imagine
somewhere real flowers,but
I can't imagine real flowers for if I

could,they would somehow
not Be real'
(so he smiles
smiling)'but I will not

everywhere be real to
you in a moment'
The is blond
with small hands

'& everything is easier
than I had guessed everything would
be;even remembering the way who
looked at whom first,anyhow dancing'

(a moon swims out of a cloud
a clock strikes midnight
a finger pulls a trigger
a bird flies into a mirror)”

in the middle of a room, ee cummings

“my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and
taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and
chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of
chrome and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am
becoming something a little different, in fact
myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet
bellowings.”

my mind is..., ee cummings

“...then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis.”

since feeling is first, ee cummings

“i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;
only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.”

Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond, ee cummings

“nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.”

Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond, ee cummings