Let’s be clear about one thing, my dilapidated heart really doesn’t need any puppy eyes to start beating right out of my chest, causing derailment according to some but for me this is a intrinsically part of living intentionally, asking life to expand proportionally to the size of my most meaningful biological structure instead of the other way around.
When Ivory suggested to go check out this litter of newborns I found online seven weeks ago, I knew exactly what was going to happen, and so did he, regardless of any open mindedness or the actual viewing experiences and no additional facial expressions begging for human attention and affection, often wrongly interpreted as strictly food related, was going to surpass us being signed sealed and delivered from the get-go, confirming love is so much more than just a feeling.
To live by that agglomeration, a conscious choice made long ago but never felt purer or more pronounced than when looking into those peepers, I cannot but forcefully trust my heart, through burning seas and stars walking backwards, suddenly obsessively devouring E.E. Cummings’ Dive For Dreams, where before I judged this American poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright to be a freaked out mannerist I didn’t have much of a stomach for, no maliciousness intended.
The first few days we shared with the newest giant already give a clear impression just how enormous Mec will be, in terms of body as well as character, hurray, we adore a lively atmosphere and he sure is bringing lots of that back into Les Pierres’ ongoing poetic party. Not at all lies, those puppy eyes, but outright exhortations.
Dive for dreams
dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at this wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for god likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
[E.E. Cummings, ninety-five poems]
