book excerptise:   a book unexamined is wasting trees

Jahan Ramazani and Richard Ellman and Robert O'Clair

The Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, v.1 Modern Poetry

Ramazani, Jahan; Richard Ellman; Robert O'Clair;

The Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry, v.1 Modern Poetry (3d edition)

W. W. Norton & Company 2003-04 (Two volumes, slipcased $75.00)

ISBN 9780393324297 / 039332429X

topics: |  poetry | anthology

e.e. cummings




Buffalo Bill's : e. e. Cummings p.547



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



O sweet spontaneous : e. e. cummings p.547

 O sweet spontaneous
 earth how often have
 the
 doting

           fingers of
 purient philosophers pinched
 and
 poked

 thee
 , has the naughty thumb
 of science prodded
 thy

       beauty      .how
 oftn have religions taken
 thee upon their scraggy knees
 squeezing and

 buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
 gods
         (but
 true

 to the incomparable
 couch of death thy
 rhythmic
 lover

           thou answerest

 them only with

                         spring)


the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls : e.e. cummings p.548


the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls
are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds
(also, with the church's protestant blessings
daughters, unscented shapeless spirited)
they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead,
are invariably interested in so many things—
at the present writing one still finds
delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles?
perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy
scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D
. . . . the Cambridge ladies do not care, above
Cambridge if sometimes in its box of
sky lavender and cornerless, the
moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy.



my father moved through dooms of love : e.e. cummings 554


my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead he called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely)stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why man breathe—
because my father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all


Contents



amitabha mukerjee (mukerjee [at-symbol] gmail) 2012 Dec 03