Buffalo Bill's Defunct by E. E. Cummings

"Defunct" refers to something that is no longer in operation or existence — it's a term used for a company that has shut down, not for a person. That's exactly why Cummings chooses it. The stark, corporate tone of the word contrasts sharply with the vibrant, electric legend of Buffalo Bill, and this contrast is the poem's opening message about how death diminishes even the most remarkable lives.

Cummings collapses spaces to influence how quickly you read. When he writes "onetwothreefourfive" as a single word, it makes you read it quickly — just like how a crowd would react to a sharpshooter firing rapidly. The typography isn’t just a trick; it injects kinetic energy straight into the text.

Death is personified and directly addressed by the speaker in the final lines. Cummings refers to Death as "Mister" and poses a taunting question, creating an ending that feels more like a challenge to an opponent than a solemn farewell. It’s grief donning a mask of defiance.

Yes, it may not seem like one. A traditional elegy expresses grief for the deceased using formal, elevated language. Cummings opts for a more casual tone and a jagged structure, but at its heart — a sense of admiration for the lost person, frustration with death, and a direct appeal to the force that took him away — it still embodies the essence of an elegy. He simply removes the formalities.

"Blueeyed boy" is American slang for someone who is a favorite, a golden child, full of charm and promise. Using it for an older man who has just passed away adds an affectionate yet bittersweet touch. It suggests that Death has claimed something valuable — its own favorite — making the final question feel like an accusation.

It’s one of his most consistent stylistic choices, intentionally deflating the ego. By not capitalizing the first-person pronoun, Cummings keeps the speaker humble—just a small human voice in a vast world. In this poem, it also sets up a contrast: the lowercase "i" of the speaker against the capitalized "Mister Death," subtly recognizing who truly holds the power.

Buffalo Bill is the American myth of the West — he packaged it, sold it, and lived it. By crafting his elegy in a fragmented, modernist style, Cummings also mourns that myth. The old frontier narrative can't endure in the 20th century any more than Cody could, and the poem's broken typography reflects that break.

All three emotions are layered together. The energy in the middle section captures the show's excitement almost joyfully. "Jesus / he was a handsome man" brings a warm, humorous vibe. The last question to Mister Death carries an angry, mocking tone. Beneath it all lies true sorrow. Cummings blends these feelings seamlessly—like grief itself, which often feels complex and intertwined.