Every Atom of Me, As Good Belongs to You.
No English degree criticism will do. No introduction. Some think of Walt Whitman as a dirty old man wandering wet grassy knolls. I once did. And actually, he probably was. But he sold this work of divinity on street corners. And now, it’s a religion of sorts, for people like me. But this is beyond poetry. It’s, as e.e. Cummings, might say, “everything that is natural, that is infinite, that is yes!”
So Here’s a Pretty Journey. Artful and Random.
Excerpts from the Complete Works of Walt Whitman.
That'll do.
No comments:
Post a Comment