People to meet (1): e.e. cummings
Several weeks ago, I was asked who I would want to meet and talk to if I could choose anybody, dead, alive or from the future, (at least I think they included the future as well…) and I couldn’t really pick a single person or even come up with a good answer I was happy with.
It might have had to do with the fact that I was so distracted by the glaring sun and the scorching sand beneath my bare feet that I kept having to hop across, and perhaps also admittedly the special someone that I was walking next to: the asker of the question himself.
Nevertheless, I’ve had some time to sit on the question and I have compiled a kind of list. (It’s a list because I am in no way good at ranking or picking just one thing of anything)
I will be posting these in no particular order.
1. e.e. cummings (Edward Estlin Cummings, the poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright. 1894 – 1962)
He is perhaps my favorite poet. It is hard to give a reasoning to why certain poems speak to me more than others. His words, his versing, his style move me in a way no other poet’s can. Maybe they resonate at a very similar frequency to the one which my heart beats. I don’t know, but a day or two just musing with him, listening to him or watching him write would just feel right in all kinds of ways.
I have several of his poems written up on my wall. I want a book of his poems. And everything he wrote.
This is one of my favorite poems by him, as usual, transcendental but beautifully simple:
Maggie And Milly And Molly And May
maggie and millie and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles, and
millie befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles: and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea.