| from "is 5": Four: VIII... e.e. cummings... |
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Some ask praise of their fellows but i being otherwise made compose curves and yellows, angles or silences to a less erring end) |
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myself is Sculptor of your body's idiom: the musician of your wrists; the poet who is afraid only to mistranslate |
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a rhythm in your hair, (your fingertips the way you move) the |
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painter of your voice- beyond these elements |
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remarkably nothing is.... therefore, lady am i content should any by me carven thing provoke your gesture possibly or |
| any painting(for its own |
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reason)in your lips slenderly should create one least smile (shyly if a poem should lift to me the distinct country of your eyes, gifted with green twilight) |
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