Monday night I had Thai food on Montague street with some dear folks. S. mentioned my blog, specifially that while he appreciates the content, he does not appreciate the lack of capital letters. Out of deference to S., I am using capital letters today, grudgingly.
My love of lowercase letters comes from an obvious place. I have loved ee cummings since the very first poem. My memory tells me that "somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond" was that first poem, but I will concede, it might just be that this one's my favorite, not my first.
An example of what I love:
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands.
This particular poem makes me me feel sad and hopeful all at once--there is love and loss, worship and adoration. Part of why I don't cook more (and hence why I don't blog more), is that cooking for one is difficult, and not that joyful. But reading a poem like this one reminds me the kind of love I can look forward to the possibility of (how's that for a badly constructed sentence?).
So thank you, S. for reminding me to look again at one of my favorite poems, for giving me the opportunity to read the words "your slightest look easily will unclose me," and get a chill up my spine.