Tag Archives: Cento from poems by E.E. Cummings

anyone’s any was all to her

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart:  when you sing in your whisky voice when the world is mud-luscious, the little bird by snow and stir by stillwhen the world is puddle-wonderful he sang his didn’t he danced his did. … Continue reading

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Posted in NaPoWriMo | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments