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A reflection on “Poem, Or Beauty Hurts Mr. Vinal” by e.e. Cummings

I
Sought recipes
Made general inquiries
forandabout
A new format, a secret primordial scroll,
Or that less-traveled roadmap;
Something to take me
Beyond the thesaurus hop and/or trivial pomp and circumstances
Currently employed.

I yearn (Yes, yearn!)
For the sacred archeo-techno-logical
Blue-ribbon prize
IN
Gredients…
Boasted of putting poets - back in their trees
Moving up a rung or two
On that evolution-
al ladder so-to-speak

(Speak up I says – ears all over - crickets chirping away)

Then it came like Sunday pancakes
A slap in the face - Sex in the City
mark my words…
All warm and fuzzy like the truth or something oddly connected
By multi-filament fiber optics:

Impressing rose-petal hearts on snotty sleeves –please!
Blood and sticky guts on cement sidewalks (where was I?) – please!
Toilet paper journal-isms – abscess-puss-raving- postulations, PLEASE!
etcetera, etcetera

Yougottafeelit! Wegottafeelit! All God’s chillins gotta feel it hallaluh!

Like I never! (And cried me an ocean, t’ boot)

Anyway,

Preprocessed and defrosted,
i
Remain frozen - on the inside!