Saturday, April 16, 2016

Proud-pied April: Poems in the lap of death

First off, you knew we weren’t going to get out of National Poetry Month without anything by e. e. cummings, right? Does anyone else cover the range of what we might call “word play” with such power and so few actual, you know, words?

Second—I’ll just get right to today’s entry, because I don’t need to ‘splain to you the power of his images of the crimes of and against Humanity. This is poetry, folks.

“Humanity i love you”

Humanity i love you
because you would rather black the boots of
success than enquire whose soul dangles from his
watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you
unflinchingly applaud all
songs containing the words country home and
mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because
when you’re hard up you pawn your
intelligence to buy a drink and when
you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and
because you are continually committing
nuisances but more
especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you
are perpetually putting the secret of
life in your pants and forgetting
it’s there and sitting down

on it
and because you are
forever making poems in the lap
of death Humanity

i hate you




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