skip to main | skip to sidebar

nap in the sun

it may not always be so

Monday, June 16, 2008

i have found what you are like (e e cummings)

        i have found what you are like
the rain,

(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
with thinned

newfragile yellows

lurch and.press

-in the woods
which
stutter
and

sing

And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss
Posted by puddle jumper at 11:27 PM
Labels: poetry

No comments:

Post a Comment

Newer Post Home
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

About Me

puddle jumper
Providence, RI, United States
amorphous; wannabe m.d.; aspiring peace corps volunteer; could be a better daughter, sister, friend; west coast dreamer; bedazzler; more than slightly neurotic; falling/fallen; red sox fanatic; sangria-sipper; foodie; rather easily distracted; reincarnated because i got it wrong last time; mrs. stephen colbert; kind of wicked manic; futbol > football; people watcher; glasses-wearer; omnivore; traveling wanderer; hopelessly smiling lost cause; stargazer; eye-roller; bibliophile; just trying to keep on keepin' on.
View my complete profile

sunshine splish splash

call it a disclaimer, if you will:

"you" is no one. any character resemblance to real life individuals is purely coincidental.

i may seem like i think i know it all. the only thing i know is i know nothing.

i'm selfish, i write for me. i type without editing.

i have high highs, which make the lows that much lower. it's all here. if you get sad, please don't read.

Blog Archive

  • ▼  2008 (5)
    • ▼  June (5)
      • "how did it start?" she asks; "how will it end?" i...
      • how's this for a personal statement?
      • i miss you now. i miss you all the time.
      • not for the faint of heart
      • i have found what you are like (e e cummings)