enter no(silence is the blood whose flesh <br />is singing)silence:but unsinging. In <br />spectral such hugest how hush,one <br /> <br />dead leaf stirring makes a crash <br /> <br />-far away(as far as alive)lies <br />april;and i breathe-move-and-seem some <br />perpetually roaming whylessness- <br /> <br />autumn has gone:will winter never come? <br /> <br />o come,terrible anonymity;enfold <br />phantom me with the murdering minus of cold <br />-open this ghost with millionary knives of wind- <br />scatter his nothing all over what angry skies and <br /> <br />gently <br />(very whiteness:absolute peace, <br />never imaginable mystery) <br />descend<br /><br />Edward Estlin Cummings<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/enter-no-silence-is-the-blood-whose-flesh/
