literature

cummings

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Literature Text

43rd chorus

cummings,
I see it now, my man,
I see it;

the beauty behind dis
order dis
array dis away
dat
      away

there's always (this place!)
and

th
is
pl
ac
e!

this finely tuned (electric rise
of a begging body's frail-
fuzz to rising epiphany)
weaponry
         aimed from.tattoos.to.crayons.at.the.heart

you've chiseled away
their gods their coffin-walls their fixed form attire their machines

they're machines
but-you-and-now-
me;
(here!)
to show them

(my)them.
sometimes I just breath his air.
© 2009 - 2024 oldest-boy
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