cummings' "i will wade out"

Until recently I've never been a fan of e.e. cummings. I had read some poems, been largely unimpressed, thought the weird capitalization use was merely gimmicky.

I have reconsidered my position.

His poem, "i will wade out" is, as I let it slow-cook in my mind, becoming more and more the sort of brilliance that humanity needs. Here is the text:

i will wade out
                  till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                 Alive
                                           with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                 in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                      Will i complete the mystery
                                      of my flesh
I will rise
         After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
       And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

I.
The first noticings should include its seventeen lines, the deliberate use of indentation to set off certain lines, and the use of capitalization. Taking each capital letter (and the beginning of the poem) as the start of a new sentence (as a syntactic item), we should see a total of eight sentences:

(a) "i will wade out / till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers"
(b) "I will take the sun in my mouth / and leap into the ripe air"
(c) "Alive / with closed eyes / to dash against darkness / in the sleeping curves of my body"
(d) "Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery / with chasteness of sea-girls"
(e) "Will i complete the mystery / of my flesh"
(f) "I will rise"
(g) "After a thousand years / lipping / flowers"
(h) "And set my teeth in the silver of the moon"

One problem with setting the sentences such is that we are left with stranded clauses. (c) and (g) lack a subject and a verb, where (d) has a verb screaming for a subject (or object, as we will see).

If the constraint to have non-fragmented sentences is to be followed, one possible fix is to ignore (for the most part) the capital letters and attempt such a reading as this:

(a') "i will wade out / till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers"
(b') "I will take the sun in my mouth / and leap into the ripe air/ Alive / with closed eyes / to dash against darkness"
(c') in the sleeping curves of my body / Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery / with chasteness of sea-girls"
(d') "Will i complete the mystery / of my flesh"
(e') "I will rise / After a thousand years / lipping / flowers / And set my teeth in the silver of the moon"

One of the three central points presented in the new reading are whether "to dash against darkness" is superordinate to "with closed eyes" (the eyes are closed so as to dash against darkness) or does it stand with "shall enter fingers..." (i.e. in order to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body, fingers of smooth mastery shall enter with the chasteness...).

Also present is a question of whether "fingers of smooth mastery" is the subject or object of whatever sentence it belongs to, that is: are the fingers entering or being entered?. In the previous paragraph, the provided paraphrase has the fingers as a subject. There are other options, as shown below.

The other wrench in the works is whether "with chasteness of sea-girls" modifies "Shall enter fingers..." or does it modify (d'). This is perhaps more important, because if the former is true, than (d') is a question. If the latter, than it is a statement.

I find this to be quite crucial to deciphering/decoding/unwinding/knowing the poem: is the author questioning or sure about the mystery of his flesh?

II.
Addressing the more technical issues of cummings poem, it is of interest to note that nine of the seventeen lines are not indented, whereas eight are. The non-indented form a pattern of one-space-two-space-space-one-space-two-space-space-one-space-two-space.

Of the eight indented, only two are on the same indentation: the line (e/d') that presents an enigma above. All others are slightly different than each other. An interesting reading can be achieved by rearranging the lines into two sections, the non-indented and indented:

(a+)
i will wade out
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
to dash against darkness
(I) Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
I will rise
lipping
flowers

(b+)
till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
Alive
with closed eyes
in the sleeping curves of my body
Will i complete the mystery
of my flesh
After a thousand years
And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

Now (a+) has four sentences: each one beginning with "i/I" except for "Shall enter" which, in the new construction, begs desperately for a subject. The parallel architecture of "i will wade," "I will take," and "I will rise" demand that the subject be "I" and that "fingers" be the object of "enter". This suggest that there is a missing "i" in line (d).

Nothing is done, however, to alleviate the issue of (d'). While (b+) suggest that it is indeed a statement (of method), the unique setting of those two lines and the fact that only (d') of all the lines in (b+) contains a "I" mandate that they be taken on their own terms.

III.
Further observation shows the poem to be exactly one hundred syllables. The fiftieth syllable is "shall," but would be the missing "I/i" of line (d), were that present. This would suggests a lovely symmetry of 101 syllables, the middle most being "I/i." The absence (and demanding context) of the word makes it all the more promising that we should consider it's impact on the poem.

There are also a total of twenty-three letter i's in the poem, four instances of the personal pronoun "i/I," five instances of "my," and five instances of "in." There is also a possible homonym in the word "eyes," as "eye'" is commonly used in a double meaning for the first person pronoun "I".

The plural nouns are thighs, flowers, eyes, curves, fingers, sea-girls, years, flowers (again), and teeth (though this is technically a non-count noun).

The singular and non-count nouns are sun, mouth, air, darkness, body, mastery, chasteness, mystery, flesh, silver, and moon.

The verbs are wade, take, leap, dash, enter, complete, rise, lipping, and set. Lipping is technically a gerund, though pragmatically it is used as a progressive verb without a {be} auxilary.

The adjectives are steeped, burning, ripe, alive, closed, sleeping, and smooth.

Besides "i/I" and various function words (which include the important auxilary verb "will), the only repeated words are flowers, which appear at the opposite ends of each other (the second and the second to last line; the end of the line and the begining). The notion of rising is present twice in "leap" and "rise."

Most lines end with a noun, the exceptions are out, alive, rise, and lipping.

IV.
cummings sets before us, in this poem, a mystery: the mystery of his/my/your flesh. As far I can see, the mystery and poem centers around a missing "i" in the center.




"i will wade out" by e. e. cummings
From Tulips and Chimneys
New York: Thomas Seltzer, 1923

Ride That Train

Good news if you happen to live in Dallas and like to get to Denton often - or vice versa. In two+ years that drive will be a ride: DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) will have finished their green line to Carrollton by early 2011 (they are opening it next year and should be finished by late 2010, but after all, a plan is just a list of things that don't happen).

From the other end, DART's counterpart, the DCTA (Denton County Transportation Authority) is planning on having its own train running from the Green Line's terminal station up to north Denton. We'll have to switch trains (at least until an interagency agreement to run on each other's lines is met) but its way cheaper than driving a car up there. The DCTA line, by the way, is also scheduled to be in service by 2010.

Also of note, DART's ridership has well increased (link opens a .PDF) in the last year and should continue to rise as they offer more service routes.

Get aboard the train of love!

Movement

There is movement in the corners
whispers from behind
glimpses in the rear view
The window frame shadows a cross on the back of these translucent blinds
and another day moves across my eyes
I maintain myself in little ways
and another day moves

Broomstick

I sometimes feel our past

laid out on a butchers table
a vast, meaty carcass
plump and runny, ready for carving
some bits for dinner
some for the alley cats
but massive and immovable
despite how we vivisect our lives
we remain who we are
and who we were
and I know that our foolishness
defined us.

But I also love those little seconds
in timeless escape from the carver's office
standing next to shores, or under umbrellas with tea
watching the skies do things to us
that I would never have known
had I kept at myself
and I believe that introspection
will probably kill me

So I can imagine you
standing there,
staring down a precipice
of yourself cast into the coming years ocean
unafraid for a' that
but eyeing the currents below
and ready;
having farewelled who you loved
having heard "You have my farewell"
and silence, awkward after;
tipping like a broom on my hand
plunged off into yourself.

You have my best wishes, for a' that.

-May Eighteenth, 2007

Folding

This weekend I had the great privilege to see my cousin, Case Dillard, preform at Austin's festival Big Range, showcasing a wide variety of dance and choreography. Case choreographed his own piece, which is based on three songs by Ben Folds: Brick, Evaporate, and the Luckiest- the second one is played and sung by Case (right after he busts some serious moves, controls his breathing, and sits down at the bench). You can watch a rehearsal of one section here - although it doesn't really do it justice.

I've never had enough exposure to dance to being able to talk about it in any other terms except "I know what I like...", but this weekend really made me wish I did. So I'd like to shamelessly promote him and the art he practices.

Drunkard

When first unstopped, swells a sweet air,
cracking ice as pours, filled a little way,
melting into mixing, rich and dark and woody
the first glass of whiskey always swears to be.

The first swallows light, each after soothes,
warmth up from the groin to lift the head
like helium balloons; the lift that
each whiskey swears to be.

and so the drinking goes and so the problems go,
and better than pills and company
each dram and draught swear to be.

Till there's no more ice and the bottle's last slosh
hardly seems the effort of a glass
so bottom goes above and whiskey goes straight
and lights worse than the first sip
ever swears to be.

and so the drinking goes and so the problems go
and better than pills and company
and never a liar has whiskey ever shown to be

- Sunday, April Twenty-ninth, 2007, 2:16 AM