Jūnijs 8., 2003

19:32 sleep_talking iespaidā atcerējos, kā kādā no vecajām grāmatām par bērna kopšanu (visticamāk, mamma to lasījusi, mani gaidot), atradu lapiņu ar E.E.Kamingsa dzejoli. Un nemaz nebrīnījos. Jo šis ir viens no tiem autoriem, kas manī atbalsojas. e. e. cummings - in a middle of a room (XXIX) in a middle of a room stands a suicide sniffing a Paper rose smiling to a self "somewhere it is Spring and sometimes people are in real:imagine somewhere real flowers,but I can't imagine real flowers for if I could,they would somehow not Be real" (so he smiles smiling)"but I will not everywhere be real to you in a moment" The is blond with small hands "& everything is easier than I had guessed everything would be;even remembering the way who looked at whom first,anyhow dancing" (a moon swims out of a cloud a clock strikes midnight a finger pulls a trigger a bird flies into a mirror) // links uz citiem viņa dzejoļiem

(man šķiet, ir tā...)

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