| Title | : | One Times One |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0871401800 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780871401809 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 70 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1944 |
One Times One Reviews
-
a politician is an arse upon
which everyone has sat except a man.
E.E. Cummings, 1 x 1, "X"
Review these poems will
come tomorrow if, for
now cross-eye faced to
warm bed unmade with
benadryl+vicodin+and
duct tape (to increase
my chances thru 5+ hours)
shut I with a desperate
hope for rest (not eternal).
So heart keep beating find,
& lungs breathe God's 1st favor,
until and headaches blind
release me on good behavior.
Favorite Poem from this book:
XXXIX
all ignorance toboggans into know
and trudges up to ignorance again:
but winter’s not forever, even snow
melts; and if spring should spoil the game, what then?
all history’s a winter sport or three:
but were it five, i’d still insist that all
history is too small for even me;
for me and you, exceedingly too small.
Swoop (shrill collective myth) into thy grave
merely to toil the scale to shrillerness
per every madge and mabel dick and dave
–tomorrow is our permanent address
and there they’ll scarcely find us (if they do,
we’ll move away still further into now -
[...]
what if a dawn of a doom of a dream
bites this universe in two,
peels forever out of his grave
and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?
Blow soon to never and never to twice
(blow life to isn't:blow death to was)
—all nothing's only our hugest home;
the most who die,the more we live -
Cummings uses experimental modernism to revisit romantic topics. The sections are on universality, love, nature. Top tips: XIV, XXIV, XXXIX.
-
Love; deconstructed.
With his uncompromising lyrical manipulation of language (and distinctly non-language), Cummings cleverly evokes childhood, innocence, spring, each with the diligence prescribed by concept and the simplicity echoed by thought. Each word, each punctuation, each empty space and occupied space, unite to demonstrate the intricacy of the mind, the passion of oneness. And beyond his ability to mimic the mind and the emotions, Cummings uses language to paint the paradox of 'what is language?' as only language can.
A masterwork of love poetry -- and of love, and of poetry. -
I'm not really a poetry person, but I thought this was a delightful little book. It's filled with memorable lines and relatable themes. My main issue with it (and most poetry) is I'm not a fan of the unorthodox format of some poems. I don't like sentences or words split into miltiple lines or the excessive use of paratheses, it kind of takes me out of it. All in all the main content of the book was well written and witty, but I guess I'm just not a big poetry person.
-
Favorites:
pity this busy monster,manunkind,
(once like a spark)
if strangers meet
let it go- the smashed word broken
i've come to ask you if there isn't a
nothing false and possible is love
except in your honour, my loveliest,
we love each other very dearly ,more
if everything happens that can't be done -
we're anything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one
- LIV (pg. 57)
Numbers play a prominent role in Cummings's poetry. Forgoing the naming of his poems, Cummings's poems are generally numbered (with few exceptions). His later collections and selections likewise forego the formality of a title, instead named for the number of poems between the covers (
50 Poems,
73 Poems,
95 Poems).
Not surprisingly, numbers again play a prominent role in 1 x 1 [One Times One], but perhaps more so than in any previous collection - both in the aforementioned and in the incorporation of numbers into various poems...one's not half two. It's two are halves of one:
which halves reintegrating,shall occur
no death and any quantity;but than
all numerable mosts the actual more
minds ignorant of stern miraculous
this every truth - beware of heartless them
(given the scalpel,they dissect a kiss;
or,sold the reason,they undream a dream)
one is the song which fiends and angels sing:
all murdering lies by mortals told make two.
Let liars wilt,repaying life they're loaned;
we(by a gift called dying born)must grow
deep in dark least ourselves remembering
love only rides his year.
All lose,whole find
- XVI (pg. 16)
dead every enormous piece
of nonsense which itself must call
a state submicroscopic is -
compared with pitying terrible
some alive individual
ten centuries of original soon
or make it ten times ten are more
than not entitled to complain
- plunged in eternal now if who're
by the five nevers of a lear
- XXI (pg. 21)
so isn't small one littlest why,
it into if shall climb all the
blue heaven green earth neither sea
here's more than room for three of me
and only while your sweet eyes close
have disappeared a million whys
but opening is are those eyes
every because is murdered twice
- XLVIII (pg. 50)
My favourite poems, as always, are those in which Cummings fragments words and sentences, or otherwise deranges his words and sentences to the point of being unrecognizable. This is Cummings at his most experimental...ygUDuh
ydoan
yunnuhstan
ydoan o
yunnuhstan dem
yguduh ged
tunnuhstan dem doidee
yguduh ged riduh
ydoan o nudn
LISN bud LISN
dem
gud
am
lidl yellud bas
tuds wweer goin
duhSIVILEYEzum
- VII (pg. 7)
a-
float on some
?
i call twilight you
'll see
an in
-ch
of an if
&
who
is
the
)
more
dream than become
more
am than imagine
- XXXI (pg. 32)
how
tinily
of
squir(two be
tween sto
nes)ming a gr
eenes
t you b
ecome
s whi
(mysterious
ly)te
one
t
hou
- XLI (pg. 43) -
E. E. Cummings never disappoints me. Beautiful collection in both construction and contents. It was neat to realize this is the book one of my all time favorite Cummings poems — “pity this busy monster,manunkind” — is from. Other favorites: “of all the blessings which to man,” “a salesman is an it that stinks Excuse,” “when god decided to invent,” “so isn’t small one littlest why,” and “now i love you and you love me” — the final line of the latter is the poem from which the collection takes its title.
-
Muitas coisas fizeram-me pensar em Stevens. Muito Abril em vários poemas. Poemas favoritos: 'ygUDuh', 'one (Floatingly) arrive', 'all ignorance toboggans into know', 'darling! because my blood can sing', 'life is more true than reason will deceive' e 'if everything happens that can't be done'. Uma maravilha de uma ponta à outra.
-
While I appreciate his genius in how he bends and breaks language, and while some of the poems did understand and therefore did not make me feel like a moron, this wasn't my cup of tea.
-
“one times one” we are one the I the war and the language that can barely express the horror of the mid twentieth century horror of destruction of the past and the denying of a future
-
cummings seems all over the place with this book. It has some of the most inventive rhymes I have seen, uses wonderful beats (they are more beats than rhythms), write eco-friends poems, returns to the theme of sex which he does so well, and introduces just the slightest touch of romance, which is unusual for him. I find more of these poems comprehensible than I have in the last several books. There are still too many that I cannot understand, so I nearly went with three stars, which may be what the obscurity really deserves, but the poems I like I like so much that I’m boosting it to four. It is nice to appreciate cummings again.
-
(
b
a
r
f
) -
My least favorite of his books so far, although I said that last time, too, I think. I liked the young Cummings much better.
-
3 1/4 stars
