Picasso
you give us Things
which
bulge:grunting lungs pumped full of sharp thick mind
you make us shrill
presents always
shut in the sumptuous screech of
simplicity
(out of the
black unbunged
Something gushes vaguely a squeak of planes
or
between squeals of
Nothing grabbed with circular shrieking tightness
solid screams whisper.)
Lumberman of The Distinct
your brain's
axe only chops hugest inherent
Trees of Ego,from
whose living and biggest
bodies lopped
of every
prettiness
you hew form truly
Back to e.e. cummings
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Comments1I have to say, I wasn't the biggest fan of this poem. The imagery was a bit too abstract for my taste, particularly the part with "grunting lungs pumped full of sharp thick mind". It just didn't resonate with me, and I found the language jarring. Maybe it's just not my cup of tea.