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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