While I’m singing praises for poets, American poets, I
must not forget ee cummings. I don’t know anything about him as a person, but I
am a fan of his poetry. I love how he plays with the very fiber of the written
word, its punctuation, capitalization and order. Sometimes you really have to
look at the poems to make sense of them but most of the time you’ll be
surprised at how quickly you can make sense of the seeming nonsense. “the
little lame balloon man whistles far and wee” “in Just spring” “when the world
is puddle wonderful” There are so many lines that have gradually crept into my consciousness
just because of their unique twist on my view of the world with a phrase
dangled in a new pattern or said in the way a Jedi Master Yoda would say them. “Anyhow
lived in a pretty how town.” It’s that kind of gift that he gave to his fellow
Americans—a slightly altered world view that wakes us from a slumber. I’m very
grateful for the poetry of ee cummings.
No comments:
Post a Comment