#254

love's function is to fabricate unknownness

(known being wisheless;but love,all of wishing)

though life's lived wrongsideout,sameness chokes oneness

truth is confused with fact,fish boat of fishing

and men are caught by worms(love may not care

if time totters,light droops,all measures bend

nor marvel if a thought should weigh a star

–dreads dying least;and less,that death should end)

how lucky lovers are(wose selves abide

under whatever shall discovered be)

whose ignorant each breathing dares to hide

more than most fabulous wisdom fears to see

(who laugh and cry)who dream,create and kill

while the whole moves;adn every part stands still:

(id, 74)

#253

the boys i mean are not refined

they go with girls who buck and bite

they do not give a fuck for luck

they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs out a hat upon her tit

one carves a cross in her behind

they do not give a shit for a wit

the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck

who cannot read and cannot write

who laugh like they would fall apart

and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined

they cannot chat of that and this

they do not give a fart for art

they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever's on their mind

they do whatever's in their pants

the boys i mean are not refined

they shake the mountains when they dance

(id, 52)

#252

“let's start a magazine

to hell with literature

we want something redblooded

lousy with pure

reeking with stark

and fearlessly obscene

but really clean

get what I mean

let's not spoil it

let's make it serious

something authentic and delirious

you know something genuine like a mark

in a toilet

graced with guts and gutted

with grace”

squeeze your nuts and open your face

(id, 30)

#251

may i feel said he

(i'll squeal said she

just once said he)

it's fun said she

(may i touch said he

how much said she

a lot said he)

why not said she

(let's go said he

not too far said she

what's too far said he

where you are said she)

may i stay said he

(which way said she

like this said he

if you kiss said she

may i move said he

is it love said she)

if you're willing said he

(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he

but your wife said she

now said he)

ow said she

(tiptop said he

don't stop said she

oh no said he)

go slow said she

(cccome?said he

ummm said she)

you're divine!said he

(you are Mine said she)

(id, 21-22)

NO THANKS

TO

Farrar & Rinehart

Simon& Schuster

Coward-McCann

Limited Editions

Harcourt, Brace

Random House

Equinox Press

Smith & Haas

Viking Press

Knopf

Dutton

Harper's

Scribner's

Covici, Friede

(Cummings, 1998: 2)

CUMMINGS, E. E. (1998). No Thanks. Edited by Richard S. Kennedy. New York: Liveright.

#129

“pity this busy monster,manukind,

not. Progress is a comfortable disease:
your victim(death and life safely beyond)

plays with the bigness of his little ness
–electrons deify one razorblade
into a mountainrange;lenses extend

unwish through wherewhen till unwish
returns on its unself
A world of made
is not a world of born–pity poor flesh

and trees,poor stars and stones,but never this
fine specimens of hypermagical
ultraomnipotence. We doctors know

a hopeless case if–listen:there's a hell
of a good universe next door;let's go” (id, 158-159)

#128

“kumrads die because they're told)
kumrads die before they're old
(kumrads aren't afraid to die
kumrads don't
and kumrads won't
believe in life)and death knows whie

(all good kumrads you can tell
by their altruistic smell
moscow pipes good kumrads dance)
kumrads enjoy
s.freud knows whoy
that hope that you may mess your pance

every kumrad is a bit
of quite unmitigated hate
(travelling in a futile groove
god knows why)
and so do i
(because they are afraid to love”(id, 150)

#127

“F is for foetus(a

punkslapping
mobsucking
gravypissing poppa but
who just couldn't help it no

matter how hard he never tried)the

great pink
superme
diocri
ty of

a hyperhypocritical D

mocra
c(sing
down with the fascist beast
boom

boom)two eyes

for an eye four
teeth for a tooth
(and the wholly babble open at
blessed are the peacemuckers)

$ $ $ ect(as

the boodle's bent is the
crowd inclined it's
freedom from freedom
the common man wants

honey swoRkey mollypants” (id, 146-147)

#121

“i like my body when it is with
your body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric fur,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh....And eyes big love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you so quite new” (id, 82)

#108

“she being Brand

-new;and you
know consequently a
little stiff i was
careful of her and(having

throughly oiled the universal
joint tested my gas felt of
her radiator made sure her springs were O.

K.)i went right to it flooded-the-carburetor cranked her

up,slipped the
clutch(and then somehow got into reverse she
kicked what
the hell)next
minute i was back I neutral tried and

again slo-wly;bare,ly nudg. ing(my

lev-er Right-
oh and her gears being in
A 1 shape passed
from low through
second-in-to-high like
greasedlightning)just as we turned the corner of Divinity

avenue i touched the accelerator and give

her the juice,good

(it

was the first ride and believe i we was
happy to see how nice she acted right up to
the last minute coming back down by the Public
Gardens i slammed on

the
internalexpanding
&
externalcontracting
braked Bothatonce and

brought allofher tremB
-ling
to a:dead.

Stand-
;Still)” (id, 77-78)

7

n
OthI
n

g can

s
urPas
s

the m

y
SteR
y

of

s
tilLnes
s

(id, 41)

4

l(a

le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness

(id, 39)

2

“Picasso
you gave 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 only” (id, 35)

1

“of my
soul a street is:
prettinesses Pic-
abian tricktrickclickflick-er
garnished
of stark Picasso
throttling trees

hither
my soul
repairs herself with
prisms of sharp mind
and Matisse rhythms
to juggle Kandinsky gold-fish

away from the gripping gigantic
muscles of Cézanne's
logic,
oho
a street
there is

where strange birds purr” (Cummings, 1994: 34)

CUMMINGS, E. E. (1994). Selected Poems. Edited by Richard S. Kennedy. New York: Liveright.