Wednesday, March 12, 2014

The poems that feed us

I am reading a lot of poetry these days. It is carrying me through the long bedside nights and the days peppered with questions and new worries.

I'd like to share some of the more meaningful poems with you.
So I'll start here.

For Kevin, from me and e.e. cummings.

since feeling is first

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

(c)2014 Laura S. Packer Creative Commons License


  1. I love cummings! He had such a great sense of life and humour.

  2. I am pondering the way language is a challenge and a solace, dear Laura. We translate our grief, our pain, our joy into something else, connected but focused as the feelings were not. Does this make any sense?
    Regardless, here in the dot -- the electronic simulation of a dot -- at the end of this sentence is a world of love for you and Kevin.


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