Sunday, March 8, 2009

suppose


Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

young death sits in a cafe
smiling, a pierce of money held between
his thumb and first finger

(i say "will he buy flowers" to you
and "Death is young
life wears velour trousers
life totters, life has a beard" i

say to you who are silent.--"Do you see
Life? he is there and here,
or that, or this
or nothing or an old man 3 thirds
asleep, on his head
flowers, always crying
to nobody something about les
roses les bluets
yes,
will He buy?
Les belles bottes--oh hear
, pas cheres")

and my love slowly answered I think so. But
I think I see someone else

there is a lady, whose name is Afterwards
she is sitting beside young death, is slender;
likes flowers.

ee cummings

:suggested by this post.
:photo via flickr

2 comments:

Lydia said...

aha. I specifically scrolled line-by-line to keep the author from my view, supposing it to be e.e. cummings. Wonderful, the photo you selected for his poem.

tyler said...

lovely. this whole space you have here is poetry. glad to have found you. i linked to you today as well.