lucina

From the mind of e.e.cummings

X

a thing most new complete fragile intense,
which wholly trembling memory undertakes
--your kiss, the little pushings of flesh, makes
my body sorry when the minute moon
is a remarkable splinter in the quick
of twilight
...or if sunset utters one
unhurried muscled huge chromatic
fist skilfully modeling silence
--to feel how through the stopped entire day
horribly and seriously thrills
the moment of enthusiastic space
is a little wonderful, and say
Perhaps her body touched me;and to face

suddenly the lighted living hills.