on cummings

Cummings staggers on
for sixty-seven stanzas.
It gets to us.
His candor
pleasures us.

His intentions are clear,
but suggestively
indecisive.
Confusion abounds
where concise patterns
do not.

There's no pleasure;
I'm sure he is
a wonderful individual,
dismal living conditions,
pinatas and expression.

A revolutionary
whose cause
is represented as undesirable.