I like this poem I found at lunch. My urge when I read Cummings with all his typographical oddities is to translate each poem into the way I would read it at a reading. Below I succumb to the urge:
Lucky means finding holes where pockets aren’t.
Lucky’s to spend laughter not money.
Lucky are Breathe grow dream die love,
not Fear eat sleep kill and have.
You am lucky.
Is we lucky.
— E. E. Cummings (New Poems #5)