Hide your eyes and the
words. stop.
Hide your eyes with your heavy hand
Next behind my hair, falling,
meeting over my face—
and the voices (how tired) stop coming from those mouths—
if you look up you can still s e e.
look at the paper
and the ink and the marks, this line that curves: then i (I) am
saying something.
How is it that this—making words—happens?
What would it be like
Not to know?
Not to hear?
in my head, in front of all their voices
when the letters make words(?)(.)
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2 comments:
Em,
I see e.e. cummings' influence creeping into your poetry! Is this true? I still need to take a course on doing 'goofy' things with punctuation ... any help here?
:-P
All the puncuation/font stuff is just out of my head. No theoretical validity behind it. I had been playing with how I was writing things down when I wrote out the original longhand. So I tried this...
And I do like cummings :)
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