On Connection Well, one person suggested that after reading e.e cumming's poem, For Sunday, we write our own, using his theme, or lack of punctuation, or way of writing. I came up with two poems that are my response to Mr. Cummings, though I really struggle with the no capitals.....
Still, with my period still running on, it is easier not to punctuate.
The Sun Comes Out
In response to e.e cummings, “For Sunday”
I place in your hands
dear precious one
the sand warmed streamed
by the rays
top to bottom paused
by wings angel in the middle
connecting
caterpillar to womb
leopard’s spots eyes
shadows known
in sultry sailing
inside the shell
broken to waves
white and golden
yolk’s gentle set
Two’s Day
The banner asked to be spread
as a gift of color and words
fairies sat in the creases
waving tiny flags that only cells
saw as gods
Each level looks up and down
finds a hierarchy
that spreads into existences
unseen meaning none
rises or lowers above or beneath
All meets in the sea
where waves clap one hand
sound is a lantern hung
without light meeting may gobble
but all is death made life
except plastic
bottles with only one message
End
