Wednesday, March 9, 2016
[in Just-] Spring
I know it is early but I cannot help thinking of this poem by e.e. cummings I loved when I was in grade school.
BY E. E. CUMMINGS
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
whistles far and wee
and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
when the world is puddle-wonderful
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and
There is the poem. Now it is me again talking. It is sweet how e.e. cummings was so enthralled by the typewriter which I am guessing was kind of new at the time. The spaces, the punctuation, the capitalization or not. Even his name, it is so typewriter.
There is a font, American Typewriter. I think the poem should technically be read in that font.
I remember when I was a kid, and pretty little, I mean, about 9 or 10, I kind of "got" what he meant. That is how good he was. The world puddle-wonderful. And back then before iPhones we actually did come running from hop-scotch and jump-rope. How quaint I am.
Up above is a picture Howard took of Jeoffry looking out at the spring morning. I like to put pictures like this on the Web log because I do not want them to get lost in the shuffle of Facebook. We put it up on Facebook with the caption "Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning." Because that was a song by Cat Stevens.
Cat, get it? At first I did not.
Spring! A little early but still.