kenne and bobby — images by joy & kenne
kenne and bobby
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what is is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
— e.e. cummings
My brother first shared this poem October 14, 2005, which was E. E. Cummings birthday.
I love these photos!
The blog has become a catharsis avenue.
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
In memory of Thomas Robert Turner, who passed away November 13, 2014. — kenne