E.E.CUMMINGS

Your morning
untangles butterfly words
lets go in neon spaces
without sleep
named by waiting
calls of imaginations
from magnetic pupils
turning out
for a generation
retracing on
hallowed voices
and cornered into islands
over the waves
there are loose stones
like unattached poems
of yours
resemblances together
on tiny breaths of speech
praising a flowing earth
in visible spring rain
showers rolling readily
by ocean marshes
into recollections
revealed in infinity.