it figures
ee cummings would emerge
from the pages of my
personal history
(once again)
to land his message
of a moon (or
balloon)
and of sailing higher than one might
have ever reached on one’s own
or even imagined possible
all things considered
with feet made
of clay
(yet stuffed full to bursting with dreams
of a keen city which no one has
ever seen and spring reigns
eternal) and the land is
drenched with love
and daisies
so many daisies
just fields and fields of daisies
and no hands to pick
them clean.
if you would like to read ee cummings poem “who knows if the moon’s” which (in part) inspired this poem then click the link… 🙂
