Thursday, December 31, 2015

e. e. cummings: teers of wonder

A message from e. e. cummings, no longer whinnying with us, yet  with us still:

'pity this busy monster, manunkind'
pity this busy monster, manunkind,

not. Progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim (death and life safely beyond)

plays with the bigness of his littleness
--- electrons deify one razorblade
into a mountainrange; lenses extend
unwish through curving wherewhen till unwish
returns on its unself.
                          A world of made
is not a world of born --- pity poor flesh

and trees, poor stars and stones, but never this
fine specimen of hypermagical

ultraomnipotence. We doctors know

a hopeless case if --- listen: there's a hell
of a good universe next door; let's go

If you haven't read cummings' The Enormous Room, do it.  Now.

                                                            or don't.

And if you read The Enormous Room it'll show.  It will be reflected in your face.

A new sympathy for the one in your crowd mist picked on in will shine out from your eyes;

 and a new glow of awe when the bullied sings like an angel, when the room is quiet and one is listening

You'll love your world more than you already do.

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