From Vice Dos & Don'ts

Two by E. E. Cummings

pound pound pound
on thy cold grey corona oh P.

but I would that my tongue could utter
the silence of Alfred Noise

Speak speak thou Fearful guest;tell me,immediate
child of Homer—when you wrote The Dial Cantos did you know
of the organ and the monkey?

Tears,idle Tears! I know not what you mean….
dear little Sweeny,child of fate,
how dost thou?—And the stiff dishonoured nightingales:

fled is that music. (I perceive
a with undubitably clotted hinderparts in obviously

compatriot;let us step into this metaphor.)




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2 shes

both not quite
young perfectly

respectable obviously married

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know soup son more
a(with of course their well
above their showing

sit sat LOOK

ing and lookanding andlookingand at
what That)then i
start
ed
laughing obvicouldn’t

ouslyhelp itwhy be

cause the
he can you sitting
on that bench in perfectly
bright obviously sunlight Right
before Every
one the yes Hole

WORLD was(praying chin up eyes

tightshut locked
hands pray)ing unbeliev
able he real
(when young was
niceyeslooking but some

Yes

how weak sort of or i doano)the
atrical now you
got me laughing but we shooden eye
can’t helped omygod hehehemygodhegodmy

god. Allatonce the apparition

arose and
looking straightahead
offwalked

dis(

appea)ring a
mong treestreestrees

greennewlying

'Looking Book' - Michael Alan

'Little Miss Echo' - Raymond Scott

PICADA County

i had a drug problem--i got caught//

1.5 pg.

'Midsummer' - Louise Glück

On nights like this we used to swim in the quarry,

the boys making up games requiring them to tear off  the girls’ clothes

and the girls cooperating, because they had new bodies since last summer

and they wanted to exhibit them, the brave ones

leaping off  the high rocks — bodies crowding the water.

The nights were humid, still. The stone was cool and wet,

marble for  graveyards, for buildings that we never saw,

buildings in cities far away.

On cloudy nights, you were blind. Those nights the rocks were dangerous,

but in another way it was all dangerous, that was what we were after.

The summer started. Then the boys and girls began to pair off

but always there were a few left at the end — sometimes they’d keep watch,

sometimes they’d pretend to go off  with each other like the rest,

but what could they do there, in the woods? No one wanted to be them.

But they’d show up anyway, as though some night their luck would change,

fate would be a different fate.

At the beginning and at the end, though, we were all together.

After the evening chores, after the smaller children were in bed,

then we were free. Nobody said anything, but we knew the nights we’d meet

and the nights we wouldn’t. Once or twice, at the end of summer,

we could see a baby was going to come out of all that kissing.

And for those two, it was terrible, as terrible as being alone.

The game was over. We’d sit on the rocks smoking cigarettes,

worrying about the ones who weren’t there.

And then finally walk home through the fields,

because there was always work the next day.

And the next day, we were kids again, sitting on the front steps in the morning,

eating a peach.  Just that, but it seemed an honor to have a mouth.

And then going to work, which meant helping out in the fields.

One boy worked for an old lady, building shelves.

The house was very old, maybe built when the mountain was built.

And then the day faded. We were dreaming, waiting for night.

Standing at the front door at twilight, watching the shadows lengthen.

And a voice in the kitchen was always complaining about the heat,

wanting the heat to break.

Then the heat broke, the night was clear.

And you thought of  the boy or girl you’d be meeting later.

And you thought of  walking into the woods and lying down,

practicing all those things you were learning in the water.

And though sometimes you couldn’t see the person you were with,

there was no substitute for that person.

The summer night glowed; in the field, fireflies were glinting.

And for those who understood such things, the stars were sending messages:

You will leave the village where you were born

and in another country you’ll become very rich, very powerful,

but always you will mourn something you left behind, even though

you can’t say what it was,

and eventually you will return to seek it.