The Poem Her Belly Marched Through Me As
E. E. Cummings
the poem her belly marched through me as
one army. From her nostrils to her feet
she smelled of silence. The inspired cleat
of her glad leg pulled into a sole mass
my separate lusts
her hair was like a gas
evil to feel. Unwieldy….
the bloodbeat
in her fierce laziness tried to repeat
a trick of syncopation Europe has
—. One day i felt a mountain touch me where
I stood (maybe nine miles off). It was spring
sun-stirring. sweetly to the mangling air
muchness of buds mattered. a valley spilled
its tickling river in my eyes,
the killed
world wriggled like a twitched string.
Next 10 Poems
- E. E. Cummings : The Rose
- E. E. Cummings : The Skinny Voice
- E. E. Cummings : The Sky A Silver
- E. E. Cummings : The Sky Was
- E. E. Cummings : The Wind Is A Lady With
- E. E. Cummings : There Is A
- E. E. Cummings : This Is The Garden:colours Come And Go
- E. E. Cummings : Thy Fingers Make Early Flowers
- E. E. Cummings : Tumbling-hair
- E. E. Cummings : Unto Thee I
Previous 10 Poems
- E. E. Cummings : The Phonograph's Voice Like A Keen Spider Skipping
- E. E. Cummings : The Moon Is Hiding In
- E. E. Cummings : The Mind Is Its Own Beautiful Prisoner
- E. E. Cummings : The Hours Rise Up Putting Off Stars And It Is
- E. E. Cummings : The Hills
- E. E. Cummings : The Glory Is Fallen Out Of
- E. E. Cummings : The Emperor
- E. E. Cummings : The Eagle
- E. E. Cummings : The Cambridge Ladies Who Live In Furnished Souls
- E. E. Cummings : The Bigness Of Cannon
