There is a nonspecific gladness that envelops humanity in the first days of spring, as if kindness itself were coming abloom in the cracks of crowded sidewalks, quelling our fears, swallowing our sorrows, salving the savage loneliness. We are reminded then that spring โ this insentient byproduct of the shape of our planetโs orbit and the tilt of its axis โ may just be Earthโs existential superpower, the supreme affirmation of life in the face of every assault on it.
That superpower comes alive with dazzling might in a century-old poem by E.E. Cummings (October 14, 1894โSeptember 3, 1962), originally published in his 1923 collection Tulips & Chimneys (public library) โ that epochal gauntlet at the conventions of poetry, which went on to influence generations of writers, readers, and daring makers of the unexampled across the spectrum of creative work โ and read at the fifth annual Universe in Verse by the polymathic creative force that is Debbie Millman, with a side of Bach.
[O SWEET SPONTANEOUS]
by e.e. cummingsO sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
dotingย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
pokedthee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thyย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย beautyย ย ย ย how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing andbuffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย (but
trueto the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
loverย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย thou answerest
them only with
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย spring)
Couple with spring with Emily Dickinson, then revisit E.E. Cummings (who, contrary to popular myth, signed his name both lowercase and capitalized) on the courage to be yourself.
For other highlights from The Universe in Verse, savor Roxane Gay reading Gwendolyn Brooksโs โTo the Young Who Want to Die,โ Zoรซ Keating reading Sylvia Plathโs โMushrooms,โ Rebecca Solnit reading Helene Johnsonโs โTrees at Night,โ and a series of animated poems celebrating nature.
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This gentle essay documents Roxanne Gayโs and her wife, Debbie Millmanโs, journey to Antarctica. Itโs not a racy tale, just a thoughtful look at what the trip meant to them, told from their perspective. A lovely take on shared contentment.
I took a picture of Debbie, bundled in her bright red parka, eyes covered with goggles, beaming as she held the chunk of ice. There were more penguins. We pulled up to a craggy landing and stepped foot on land to . . . say we stepped foot on Antarctica. We admired the landscape, and I was struck by the fact that this really is one of the last places in the world that is largely unconquered. I found an unexpected comfort in that.