The Constorium of Greater Minds

just browsing some of cumming’s stuff and i came across this gem. maybe it’s just me and the state i’ve been in lately or maybe it’s just that this poem is entirely about sex…the car metaphor is great. i really enjoy cummings’ avant-garde style and amazing and artistic use of the english language. a lot of the stuff i have written is in a similar vein…perhaps because it’s easier to write without adhering to certain laws and forms or perhaps the style offers more room for creativity. anyway, below she being brand something cummings-esque i wrote back in high school.

she being brand
by
ee cummings

she being Brand

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

thoroughly 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 in 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
brakes Bothatonce and

brought allofher tremB
-ling
to a:dead.

stand-
;Still)

and now my meager attempt

this one isn’t about sex – it’s called september

The path turns 2 loud
The wind blows so soothingly
through
My sleep
on a feeling
what it was
(you) weren’t
nearer to the grounds

[above the tree top turns]

what was it the walls told me
in the abby outside town
the truth becomes as simple as now
we know
how we didn’t – know – we felt
running through the gard)
en

so easily we don’t
over under the style we bound
laughing (laughing) (laughing) (laughing)

so no one can feel what only

the

> wind

can’t tell
I remember how I said I thought you remember well
as before
the season is slipping in
through the balconywefell