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if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one. It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my

(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

suddenly in sunlight

he will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)

-E. E. Cummings, W [ViVa]

The storm has come:
the empty shell
of a snail.

-Soshi

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