SOMETIMES I HAVE NO IDEA WHY A PHOTOGRAPH I HAVE TAKEN REMINDS ME OF A POEM, A PARTICULAR POEM. THIS TIME I FOUND MYSELF THINKING OF MY MOTHER WHEN I SAW THIS STRANGELY BEAUTIFUL FLOWER THAT IS BLOOMING THIS MONTH IN SAN DIEGO, AND THINKING ABOUT HER MADE ME THINK OF AN E.E. CUMMINGS POEM. MY MOTHER DIDN'T HAVE RED HAIR, AND I NEVER SAW HER BEAUTIFUL, BROWN HAIR STANDING ON END. PERHAPS IT'S THAT I LIKE E.E. CUMMINGS NO MATTER WHAT HIS POEMS SAY, BUT I ESPECIALLY LIKE THE WAY HE FOUND TO SAY HOW WONDERFUL HIS MEMORY OF HIS MOTHER WAS TO HIM. MINE, TOO.

if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one. It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my

(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

(suddenly in sunlight

he will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)