Love.

During the past eight weeks, I have developed a deep and abiding love for poetry. Poetry of all forms, but mostly sonnets. I love sonnets. Along with my love for poetry in general has come the love of this man. 

E. E. Cummings. Genius. I am not a fan of all of his work, but I am a fan of a huge chunk. For instance, this sonnet. 


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)