pretty how town

I was going to post this e.e. cummings poem for sunday, but then I found it here. So here's another one instead. You should read this one aloud.

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

I love the rhythm of this one, and also the uses of anyone, noone, someones. This poem also triggers a memory from my childhood: When I was learning to read, everytime I came across the word "nowhere," I would read it (aloud, sometimes, in reading group) as "now here." I remember being disappointed when my teacher corrected me with "no where" and couldn't understand why the word couldn't be what I'd thought it was, too.

And this: In first grade, to demonstrate that I should go to second or third grade for reading lessons, my teacher wrote a short passage of about five lines or so on the chalk board and had me read it aloud to another teacher. It was a silly passage about the antics of some "pet." I was a good reader, but every time I came upon the word "pet," I would read "cat" in its place. No one writes a story about a "pet," I thought. Good writers will be far more precise-- it matters if the pet is a cat or a dog or a mouse or an iguana. The teacher tried to appease me by adding this sentence to the end of the passage: "The pet was a cat." It didn't work. They bumped me up a grade, anyway.


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