Archived entries for E.E. Cummings

are you experienced?

Twenty-two years later, I open up The Dancing Wu Li Masters and find an E.E. Cummings quotation?!? Synchronicity just so is, I tell you. “Knowledge is a polite word / for dead but not buried imagination.” Ouch, as I sit here neck-deep in supposedly knowledgeable books. But, thank you, Universe. I needed that.

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i sing a song of saint e. e.

How did this man enter my life? How did his poetry spill into my life so completely? He’s been in my bed so many times… and I can’t even remember where I first met him?!?

I can remember when poetry itself decided to explode into my life. Fourteen years ago and newly in Austin, Texas, I had ended up on a Chamber of Commerce committee for the arts in charge of a member happy hour. I scrounged up a list of artists from somewhere and invited them, too. I figured it might be easier to raise money for the arts if more people actually met artists. The sociable was only marginally sociable when two longhaired young men in combat boots suddenly stormed in, shook my hand off of my arm, jumped up on two chairs and began performing. Loudly, and lyrically. Inexplicably, and perfectly. Just six minutes of lapidary words and ardent emotion, and the entire room was transfixed.

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