Five.

O hipster hustler
Portland how often has
the
thinning
   tread of
cynical cyclists scraped
and
skidded

you
, have the weary transplants
from California laid
claim

to you     . how
often have coffee snobs
held you to their nostrils
smelling and

tasting you, that you might rival
Seattle
    (but
true

to the incomparable
simplicity of your design
your modest
graces

 you answer


them only with

        constellations)

Four.

in Just-
winter    when the world is frost-
beaming the steadfast
stirred grocer

trudges     holding     canvas bags

and goldensandblacklabs come
running from fire sleeps and
window starings and it’s
winter

when the world is prism-colorful

the weathered
stockinged grocer trudges
holding   canvas   bags
and thebrodytwins throw snowballs

from igloos and snow angels and

it’s
winter
and
  the

     north-faced

grocer  trudges
holding
canvas
bags

Read the original by EE Cummings.
Photo by Ardenstreet.

Three.

when we let the earth be

From subway tunnels shall flow a stream
fish that swim within

the jaded vines will flourish up
Through the scaffolding of the broadcast towers

roads will crumble to purple flowers
that children whom worries refract

will weave between their little fingers
Our resilient bees within the hive

Onward to pollinate and thrive
the breeze teasing at the grass

their ghosts will touch our faces
and all the while shall our hearts be

Home within the sprouting trees

Read the original by EE Cummings...

Two.

With red dreads went my friend climbing
on great cliffs of stone
to overlook the sea.

four wet-suited surfers floated tired and cold
the determined wave crashed before.

Calmer be they than silent morns
the long languished step
the quiet quick step.

Four forlorn photos before dusk
open heart surgery resounded before.

Copolla in pocket went my friend climbing
barefooted and unslipping
to overlook the sea.

four wet-suited surfers floated tired and cold
the August sun crashed before.

More nervous be they than troubled times
the half-hopeful step
the wild wavering step.

Four stops along the PCH
the cocunut rum resounded before.

Jeans rolled high went my friend climbing
barefooted and exploring
to overlook the sea.

four wet-suited surfers floated tired and cold
the long horizon crashed before.

More connected be they than morning meditation
the curious crouched step
the dim dark step.

With red dreads went my friend climbing
on great cliffs of stone
to overlook the sea.

four wet-suited surfers floated tired and cold
my home her home before.

Read the original by EE Cummings...

One.

Thy streets make a quiet trance of
all things.
thy roofs mostly searing and jagged:
a roughness which
calls, saying
(though Prague be a night)
this, too, is new, look up as well.

thy whitest snow attentively falling
Always
thy warm pubs are of friends filling
whose revelry much
says; chanting
(thought Prague be a night)
prosím, bring me another.

To be thy swans is a sweet thing
and small.
Citizens, Thee I call rich beyond wishing
if here thou stay,
else missing.
(though Prague be a night
and escape be day, dawn must always follow).

Read the original by ee cummings...