E. E. Cummings

No Thanks, 45

Sometimes in)Spring a someone will lie(glued among familiar things newly which are transferred with dusk)wondering why this star does not fall into his mind feeling throughout ignorant disappearing me hurling vastness of love(sometimes in Spring somewhere between what is and what may be unknown most secret i will breathe such crude perfection as divides by timelessness that heartbeat) mightily forgetting all which will forget him(emptying our soul of emptiness)priming at every pore a deathless life with magic until peace outthunders silence. And(night climbs the air

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