Poem Favoured 090828

Just a little something
I’d like to be able to read
to a certain someone
some day.

hate blows a bubble of despair into
e. e. cummings

hate blows a bubble of despair into

hugeness world system universe and bang

-fear buries a tomorrow under woe

and up comes yesterday most green and young

pleasure and pain are merely surfaces

(one itself showing, itself hiding one)

life’s only and true value neither is

love makes the little thickness of the coin

comes here a man would have from madame death

nevertheless now and without winter spring?

she’ll spin that spirit her own fingers with

and give him nothing (if he should not sing)

how much more than enough for both of us

darling. And if i sing you are my voice


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