took me awhile to feel motivated to poem today. this was inspired by a line from e.e. cummings, #46 from 100 Selected Poems, which begins, “love’s function is to fabricate unknownness”. I’ve included his poem in its entirety after the cut. cummings was one of the first poets I ever read, and I still have a hard time finding concrete meaning in any of his poems, but I always appreciate his obsession with love.
the deep shallow of apocalypse may still be avoided,
love or no love; we may yet heave
our great accomplishment, that trash tectonic
from the spin of the pacific’s gyre, clean the sea;
it might not be too late to undo the hate
gargling and stewing in the gullet of the White house;
we may yet make meaningful room in our headlines
for trans accomplishments and not just our deaths
as afterthought. that may be. love or no love.
but if love’s function is to fabricate unknownness ,
then try me. let us unknow the unfuture. let us
fabricate our own, beyond the wingtips of vultures.
let us resist like the ocean, squeamish, momentous;
let us prism like crystals, resilient stones.
from 100 Selected Poems by e.e. cummings.
love’s function is to fabricate unknownness
(known being wishless; but love,all of wishing)
though life’s lived wrongsideout,sameness chokes oneness
truth is confused with fact,fish boast of fishing
and men are caught by worms(love may not care
if time totters,light droops,all measures bend
nor marvel if a thought should weigh a star
—dreads dying least;and less,that death should end)
how lucky lovers are(whose selves abide
under whatever shall discovered be)
whose ignorant each breathing dares to hide
more than most fabulous wisdom fears to see
(who laugh and cry)who dream,create and kill
while the whole moves;and every part stands still: