and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody;not even the rain,has such small hands"
-From 100 Selected Poems
by e.e. cummings
by e.e. cummings
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Like the Birds to Capistrano: Part I
Georgiana Starlington In the twentieth century, we were a tribe of nomads searching for coordinates that didn’t exist on any respectable map...
-
.jpg)
Here I sit - nursing a scotch, looking out at the pink and orange reflection of the sunset on the mountain—pondering my solitary act of civi... -
“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first t... -
The Parable, Redacted A long time ago, a grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing. A wretched thing, laboring away in the heat, a...
No comments:
Post a Comment