when god lets my body be
From each brave eye shall sprout a tree
fruit dangles therefrom
the purpled world will dance upon
Between my lips which did sing
a rose shall beget the spring
that maidens whom passions wastes
will lay between their little breasts
My strong fingers beneath the snow
Into strenous birds shall go
my love walking in the grass
their wings will touch with their face
and all the while shall my heart be
With the bulge and nuzzle of the sea
i think this poem is very hard to understand. its very beautiful at the same time, but also hard to get.
i dont get this poem…its my homework assienment…please explain
when i read this i feel like there is always hope for true freedom despite the unhopeful and unrelenting onslaught and destruction of all things free by “this busy monster manunkind”
but then i feel angry and want to destroy something, something cement or internally combusting.
I love the last line of this poem — it’s one of my two favorites of cummings’.
He has these little jewels scattered throughout his poems.
dalí comes to mind… a surreal painting inside the mind. and yet somehow more beautiful than dalí, more optimistic, joyful.