FOREWARD, is 5

　　On the assumption that my technique is either complicated or original

　　or both, the publishers have politely requested me to write an intro-

　　duction to this book.

　　At least my theory of technique, if I have one, is very far from

　　original; nor is it complicated. I can express it in fifteen words, by

　　quoting The Eternal Question And Immortal Answer of burlesk, viz.

　　"Would you hit a woman with a child?--No, I'd hit her with a brick."

　　Like the burlesk comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision

　　which creates movement.

　　If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter

　　very little--somebody who is obsessed by Making. Like all obsessions,

　　the Making obsession has disadvantages; for instance, my only interest

　　in making money would be to make it. Fortunately, however, I should

　　prefer to make almost anything else, including locomotives and roses.

　　It is with roses and locomotives (not to mention acrobats Spring

　　electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagara

　　Falls) that my "poems" are competing.

　　They are also competing with each other, with elephants, and with

　　El Greco.

　　Ineluctable preoccupation with The Verb gives a poet one priceless

　　advantage: whereas nonmakers must content themselves with the

　　merely undeniable fact that two times two is four, he rejoices in a

　　purely irresistible truth (to be found, in abbreviated costume, upon

　　the title page of the present volume).

　　E.E. CUMMINGS