Dang, what's up with all these books?

e. e. cummings

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Done by Dan at Electric City Tattoo Gallery in Scranton, PA.  This is EE Cummings’ poem, “l(a”

if a cheerfulest Elephantangelchild should sit
(holding a red candle over his head
by a finger of trunk, and singing out of a red

book) on a proud round cloud in a white high night

where his heartlike ears have flown adorable him
self tail and all (and his tail’s red christmas bow)
—and if, when we meet again, little he (having flown
even higher) is sunning his penguinsoul in the glow

of a joy which wasn’t and isn’t and won’t be words

while possibly not (at a guess) quite half way down
to the earth are leapandswooping tinily birds
whose magical gaiety makes your beautiful name—-

i feel that (false and true are merely to know)
Love only has ever been,is,and will ever be,So

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T. S. Eliot

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“let it go — the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise — let it go it
was sworn to
go

let them go — the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers — you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go — the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things — let all go
dear
so comes love” 
― E.E. Cummings

what you were
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.

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there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?

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Eloisa to Abelard by Alexander Pope. The poem for which “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” was named.

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Byzantium, I come not from.

RIP Ray Bradbury

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you shall above all things be glad and young.
For if you’re young,whatever life you wear

it will become you;and if you are glad
whatever’s living will yourself become.
Girlboys may nothing more than boygirls need:
i can entirely her only love

whose any mystery makes every man’s
flesh put space on;and his mind take off time

that you should ever think,may god forbid
and(in his mercy)your true lover spare:
for that way knowledge lies,the foetal grave
called progress,and negation’s dead undoom.

I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing
than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance

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Still I Rise.

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Allen Ginsberg

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