e.e. cummings [what if a much of a which of a wind]

In 10th grade we had to do a critical research paper and I was assigned this poem.  At first, I wasn't really excited to do the paper at all because well, frankly, I hated poetry.  In my opinion, people that could write 20 lines about the beauty of a flower should have been certified insane, not praised as a literary genius.  So when I was assigned to read e.e. cummings "what if a much of a which of a wind" I thought "Great, I have to write a 10 page paper on some poem written by this freak who doesn't even capitalize his own name."  However, after I read the poem a few times and researched about e.e. cumming's life, I fell in love.

To me, e.e. cummings is like the Sid Vicious of poetry.  I like to imagine him walking around in the 1930's smoking cigarettes and popping up the collar on his leather jacket.  Although I'm sure this wasn't the case, and that he never murdered his psychopathic girlfriend in the midst of a drug fueled rage, I still like to think of him as having the same punk rock attitude later embodied by Sid Vicious.  He was punk rock before punk rock even existed.

So I was in love with e.e. cummings, but that didn't mean I understood his poem anymore.  After researching what critics had written about it, I came to realize that they didn't really know either.  I was left to fend for myself and rely on my own intellect, in short, I was screwed.

I don't remember what I finally came up with, as that was many moons ago and I tend to block out such stressful situations from my memory.  However, revisiting the poem many years later, I don't know why I had such a problem.  The explosive language cummings uses in this poem leads you directly to its meaning.  Its about the destruction of the world, the eventually end of humanity brought upon by man himself.  Some might argue that it's about the third World War that cummings (and others) believed would eventually come.  

The lines that always stick with me after I read this poem are lines 17-20, "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?".  Those lines are both beautiful and utterly depressing at the same time.  Beautiful because of the way they are written, the power of the words that cummings is choosing.  Yet utterly depressing because of the truth in that statement.  The way technology is progressing, and the way we are choosing to deal with our conflicts, makes me believe that cummings words may eventually become our reality.