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