“along the brittle treacherous bright streets
of memory comes my heart,singing like
an idiot, whispering like a drunken man”
More from E. E. Cummings
“somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their…”
“and what I want to know is how do you like your blue-eyed boy”
“i charge laughing. Into the hair-thin tints of yellow dawn, into the women-coloured…”
“(and from my thighs which shrug and pant a murdering rain leapingly reaches the upward…”