The moment one writes a title to one of his poems, or especially his name, controversy begins. But when asked in 1951 how he wanted his name to appear on a book cover he replied, "E.E.Cummings, unless your printer prefers E. E. Cummings/ titlepage up to you;but may it not be tricksy svp[.]" Rather than get into this here, let me give you the link to the source of that quote: http://www.gvsu.edu/english/cummings/caps2.html
Another extensive article about his use of capitals, and the myth about how he liked his name to be written can be found here: http://www.gvsu.edu/english/cummings/caps.htm
It occurred to me last night when I made a hot ham and cheese sandwich for my dinner, that we can enhance the flavors of food if we present them at the right temperature, and we can interfere with flavor by overdoing condiments sometimes. The warm wheat bread with the melted provolone... oh amazing. And somehow the ham heated up has a richer, deeper flavor than when it is served cold. It needed NO mustard or relish of any kind. It was divine.
However, sometimes when the presentation is less than perfect, condiments can enhance the natural flavors. A cold ham sandwich just cries out for mustard or mayo, don't you think? And I've recently discovered that my British friends prefer to butter their buns. All of this is to say that I hope the effects of the video actually enhance the experience and compliment the poem's flavor, rather than distract you from it.
To hear a reading by a better voice, which needs no enhancements please see poetictouchchannel's presentation of the poem read by Eileen Atkins: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6507FuuT8U
This is one that you may need to read for yourself, so I provide the text below. It is not, however it might at first appear, a nonsense poem. Not in the least. Enjoy.
if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one
one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we come who)
one's everyanything so
so world is a leaf so a tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now
now i love you and you love me
(and books are shuter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we
we're anything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one
I have some catching up to do with you I see. You do honor to me, probably more than I deserve. But hey, I'm enjoying the attention. :) Yes, the paradox of language that hates itself and makes art of what it hates. Intriguing isn't it?
sonofwalt 2 months ago
Yes...you choose well...:)) great poem
Poemsapennyeach 8 months ago
@Poemsapennyeach Thank you, Kristine! I was just thinking about you on my lazy day off. Was just planning on heading over to see what you've been up to in the garden, kitchen or studio, and here you are at my door step! And I see you brought wine-- Soooo thoughtful of you. :-)
sonofwalt 8 months ago
Great choice and a perfect reading
tinySpectacle 8 months ago
@tinySpectacle Thank you! I am happy you enjoyed it. :)
sonofwalt 8 months ago