Song birds inside my head | e.e. cummings / Robert Creeley / Albín Brunovský

“Your head is a living forest full of song birds.”

e.e. cummings

“Life does not consist mainly, or even largely,
of facts and happenings.
It consists mainly of the storm of thought that
is forever flowing through one’s head.”

Mark Twain

Albín Brunovský

Inside my head a common room,
a common place, a common tune,
a common wealth, a common doom

inside my head. I close my eyes.
The horses run. Vast are the skies,
and blue my passing thoughts’ surprise

inside my head. What is this space
here found to be, what is this place
if only me? Inside my head, whose face?

Robert Creeley, Inside my head
The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1975–2005

Albín Brunovský

Tags: Albín Brunovský, e.e. cummings, Mark Twain, Robert Creeley

3 thoughts on “Song birds inside my head | e.e. cummings / Robert Creeley / Albín Brunovský”

Your head is a lit chamber.

Dejan Stojanovic

Perhaps being old is having lighted rooms inside your head, and people in them, acting. People you know, yet can't quite name.

Francois de La Rochefoucauld

I have discovered the secret of happiness – it is work, either with the hands or the head. The moment I have something to do, the draughts are open and my chimney draws, and I am happy.

John Burroughs

His answer trickled through my head like water through a sieve.

Lewis Carroll

–

What a wee little part of a person's life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself.

Mark Twain

Never bend your head. Always hold it high. Look the world straight in the eye.

Helen Keller

If a man empties his purse into his head, no one can take it from him.

Benjamin Franklin

If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?

T. S. Eliot