separated from the print form by various technical stages, 
could enjoy none of the freedom of oral stress provided by the 
typewriter. The poet at the typewriter can do Nijinsky leaps or 
Chaplinlike shuffles and wiggles. Because he is an audience for 
his own mechanical audacities, he never ceases to react to his 
own performance. Composing on the typewriter is like flying a 
kite.

     The e. e. cummings poem, when read aloud with widely 
varying stresses and paces, will duplicate the perceptual 
process of its typewriting creator. How Gerard Manley Hopkins 
would have loved to have had a typewriter to compose on! 
People who feel that poetry is for the eye and is to be read 
silently can scarcely get anywhere with Hopkins or cummings. 
Read aloud, such poetry becomes quite natural. Putting first 
names in lower case, as “eddie and bill,” bothered the literate