my father moved through dooms of love by E.E. Cummings

My father
moved
with the same
song
of night

My father moved
towards
great heights

His face did light
up as if the air
was timid
he
stirred
I forgiven

Newly buried
rootbeer floats
swerving
selves
roots and ghosts

finger-ling
sleeping mountains
growing

valleys
seas me in grief
and growing

joy-song
wrists turned
hearts blurred

midnight-summer
conception
o brother

flesh bloonder
crippled
uphilled
hunger

Pompous
must
and shall
anger
against the grain

September rain
the humble wealth
over-came

I’m proud
I beckon
immortality
shoulder-working
against
the darkness

Sorrow is such stale
bread
look how I dance
blood and flesh
mud
and mire
the drug-king
aspires

pinnacle
to be
bequeath unto me
Father
in Heaven
art though
nothing quite so least
as truth
magots
poet-cruel