somewhere i have never travelled

[somewhere i have never travelled] by e.e. cummings


somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(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

Again.

I hide in shadows
I become more of myself
Less of myself
More of myself

Again.

We walk a path, leaving
footprints in the snow.
They will never know, it was us.
It was us and we forgot that they were watching
our footprints.
We walked the path and we left footprints.
I took a picture
of our tracks,
and framed them for your wall.

Again.

I forgot to write you
into my life.
I forgot how to feel like it
was you I was missing.
I forgot that we forgot to remember
to keep our promises.
I forgot my paces along the path,
lonely footprints left in snow.

Again.

I search beyond these papers,
watching hasty paintings dry.
I try to take the little steps,
I try
and try
and try.
I tell you what I can,
what I tried not to remember.
I search for the right words,
but they are lost,
like blankets of untouched snow.

Again.

I finger the buttons
and pace this full empty room.
I take the pictures down
and leave them in my turquoise chest.
I take the little pieces,
and put them together again.
I take
and take.
And you take me.
I take your sweater
and find I am ensconced
in threads of olive green.
I finger the creases of
our silhouettes,
perfect like fresh-fallen snow.

Again.

I dance in shadows.
I become more of myself
Less of myself
More of myself

Again.











http://quietdream.deviantart.com/art/Shadows-32760235

Snapshot

She is quite
beautiful.
And in her
search to find
solid ground,
she tastes the February Snow
and snaps a picture
to save a moment
or two.
We walk the dim-lit streets,
and travel back through histories
we tried to
forget.

I taste the February sun
and all the flowers
that won't bloom
until spring.

She hands me a snapshot,
and though it is not
my memory,
I see myself standing
in a field of flowers.
Hands delicately grasping
a solid red scarf,
silhouetted against
the setting sun.

And I whispered "Where did you get this?"
"I found it in my old suitcase. It's me in Mississippi last year."
she says "The sun was shining that day, I remember my father holding the camera up just right."
"I love it. We should take photographs as good as this."
"Yes, we should. There's a hill I know of."


She stands
like mannequin
silhouettes.
On a hill
in the middle of
Somewhere.

It's mine, I take
it back. Where did you
get that,

that's me.
You found that from
some old collection,

warped, aged memories,
I don't understand.

I've never seen it before.
That's me, that's me.

I twisted the umbrella
in my right hand,
handle circling,
redoubling,
circling again.
Navigate this appendage.
Protect my skin
from raw
sunshine
elements.
From raw
rain storm
elements.
From thunderclaps
and light storms.

That picture, it's
me where did you find...

It is just like
you to find me
in your picture.

Red Scarf,
and a Clementine
in a white
sundress,
pockets full of
Citrus.
Eyes behold
our silly little
wandering blue-green
efforts to
carve out a
brilliant, memorable, respectable
place
for ourselves.
On the hill.
We were perfect,
on a hill.
You wore a yellow scarf
on the hill.























http://vampire-zombie.deviantart.com/art/I-fell-in-love-with-an-alien-106389551

Chance

I unlocked the door
to see who was knocking.
I stretched erect
like open-hinges,
felt the draft blow in.
I stand between
two extremes.

















http://billybofh.deviantart.com/art/Doorway-55941854


constantly cold
and
consistantly foolish

I search, yet
I cannot uncover
what combination of
Random events that
brought me here


It was no accident that we
ended up here,
together.