nobody loses all the time
e. e. cummings (1894 - 1962)


i have struggled a little since beginning this project with trying to decide which
     e.e. cummings poem to use when his time came around which explains
     in part why it took so long for his time to come around then

       not too long ago in           response to my several mentions in these pages

   of louis untermeyer my friend jack may          from nashville sent me a short

                                                                                                                    verse

                                    that cummings once wrote about untermeyer as follows

 

mr u will not be missed who as an anthologist sold the many on the few
     not excluding mr u

 

which prompted me to

          respond with the observation that cummings may have disliked

                untermeyer not because

                      untermeyer excluded a lot of good poets from his anthologies

while including untermeyer himself but because he was mildly critical of mr  e e c

 

so mr m responds by reminding me o f nobody loses all the time to remind
     me of how good a poet cummings was when he was good and that decided it for

                 me because i had forgotten how much i really do

              like cummings work when i like it and how i have always liked
     nobody loses all the time

 

an excellent poet     author    artist     interesting man    cummings
     does not rank with the all time greats   but he ranks 
                                                           with the best  most fun and entertaining
 
now before anyone e-mails and points out that cummings curiously
     punctuated and strangely spaced style had reflected some artistic talent and that my
     imitation does no such thing i would point out that cummings 
 
                   was talented and artistic and i am no   t
 
however i do share one   thing with cummings that being the very
     thing that untermeyer accused cummings of which is to say that being
     thatiamutterlyincapableofacceptingcriticism                          
                                                     i hope you enjoy   this   


nobody loses all the time

i had an uncle named
Sol who was born a failure and
nearly everybody said he should have gone
into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could
sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which
may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle

Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable
of all to use a highfalootin phrase
luxuries that is or to
wit farming and be
it needlessly
added

my Uncle Sol's farm
failed because the chickens
ate the vegetables so
my Uncle Sol had a
chicken farm till the
skunks ate the chickens when

my Uncle Sol
had a skunk farm but
the skunks caught cold and
died and so
my Uncle Sol imitated the
skunks in a subtle manner

or by drowning himself in the watertank
but somebody who'd given my Uncle Sol a Victor
Victrola and records while he lived presented to
him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a
scrumptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with
tall boys in big black gloves and flowers and everything and

i remember we all cried like the Missouri
when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because
somebody pressed a button
(and down went
my Uncle
Sol

and started a worm farm)

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