and e. e. too

i'm a little . . . shall we say, overwhelmed.

there's too much to do.

too much to start.

too much to complete.

too little time.

too many people to think about.

too many thing i haven't done.

too

too

too

my escape from all this "too" has been into a small collection of e. e. cummings poetry.  why?

well because he uses punctuation and grammar in no way i've ever seen, his language is beautiful and soothing because his cadence is fabulously simple.

And mostly, because he uses the word "love" a lot.

i don't know of any other poet that uses the word so pointedly, or so many times and yet it never feel overdone . . . it's never too much.

"and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly"

or

"love's function is to fabricate unknownness"

or

"let all go--the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things-- let all go
dear
       so comes love"


so comes love.


and now, i will dive back into too much.