There was never a poet like e.e. cummings for his joy in playing with language, the pureness of his emotion and voice. Returning to him, probably ten to fifteen years since I've really read his poems, I find such a freshness about him, such a love, such an unapologetically unique voice.

He's unafraid to build his world and his style exactly the way he wants it, to break the molds of older poetry and reshape them to his liking, but always with a smile or at least a smirk. He's the rare innovator who does not alienate, but embraces.