Sunday Poetry: and may myself do nothing usefully

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Welcome to Sunday Poetry.   If this is your first visit you can read about the purpose and inspiration of my Sunday poetry blogs here.

Today’s poem is 53 by E.E. cummings.  I love this one.  I love the way the poet plays with capitalization, with structure, with pronouns.  Those moments in the poem are stops along the way, places to tarry and reconsider.  And there’s much to reconsider here.

Remember there are no quizzes, no right ways to read or contemplate the poem we share.  Absolutely no dissecting allowed.  Just come along for the “read.”  What line, word or thought will you carry with you this week?  If you’d like to tell us where the poem took you?  We’ll listen.

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