Give Me Space

“Another E.E. Cummings poem, about Buffalo Bill, opens with a few short lines about Buffalo Bill riding on his horse and then hits us with a rushing line followed by another that brings us up short:

and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat


You can hear the breathless amazement in the speaker’s voice, and then the pause of the white space, followed by the sudden exclamation of admiration: ‘Jesus.’

Experiment with clumping some words and lines together, and separating others.”

-Kim Addonizio

New World Symphony

Let the goosebumps rise on the back of your neck

Terror shiver down your spine


of cymbals

Tremolo of strings

Listen to the sound of


Trumpets wailing at the death of babes caught sleeping in the storm



the marching feet

People’s Liberation Army



The whisper of unwanted children to unwanted mothers

Soft melody hiding in their voices

 The beat kept by swaying hips

of prostitutes, strippers

and children

The fermata over rest

of Americans in bed, unafraid, unscarred, opinionated

Directors of the symphony


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