my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and
taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and
chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of
chrome and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am
becoming something a little different, in fact
myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet
bellowings.
My Mind Is
E. E. Cummings
(1)
Poem topics: feel, smell, mind, touch, sensual, sharp, taste, perform, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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