Thursday, April 30, 2015

National Poetry Month: A Conversation with Walt Whitman

    
Walt Whitman in Spite of Biographers
by Joanne Cage

I told you about myself. I never claimed to be perfect.
Those who dig at my life with suspicion
are punished with confirmation.
They do not diminish me;
they do not even diminish themselves.
They prove what I told you long ago:
they look for me in themselves,
and find themselves in me.  I am large,
I am the book writers, I am you.
I exist in the multitudes I love.
You are still welcome here.  Come,
and you will carry away as much and as good
as you have always carried away,
and I will not dry up, I will not be exhausted.

The size of your vessel will measure
how much of me you carry away.
So come on, bring your bucket or wheelbarrow–
Bring your begging bowl, cask or barrel–
Bring your bare hands, heart and brain,
and I will fill them up with large thoughts
on which you will ruminate like the great ruminants.
I will give you antidotes to fear and loneliness.

Read the books if you like, but I tell you again:
I am not there.  They have not pressed me between boards
nor bound me at the spine.
If you look for me in the books, you may lose me,
hate me, feel ashamed we met and talked together,
but you can never forget me.
As long as crowds mill around in city streets
and someone’s murdered in an alley;
while soldiers die and babies are born to women,
and men can dream like children
and believe in things the way they ought to be;
as long as dry leaves drift onto graves
and the world goes on as it always has,
you will remember the stories I told you
and read my letters written in the grass.      

   

2 comments:

JD Atlanta said...

Listening to her read this really knocks me out.

-blessed holy socks said...

Need some new fangled thots, ideers, ironclad iconoclasms? Look no firdr...

VERBUM SAT SAPIENTI: As an ex-writer of the sassy, savvy, schizophenia we all go through in this lifelong demise, I just wanna help U.S. git past the whorizontal more!ass! we're in (Latin: words to [the] wise)...

"This finite existence is only a test, son," God Almighty told me in my coma. "Far beyond thy earthly tempest is where you'll find corpulent eloquence" (paraphrased). Lemme tella youse without d'New Joisey accent...

I actually saw Seventh-Heaven when we died, dear: you couldn't GET any moe curly, party-hardy-endorphins, extravagantly-surplus-lush Upstairs when my beautifull, brilliant, bombastic girl passed-away due to those wry, sardonic satires.

"Those who are wise will shine as brightly as the expanse of the Heavens, and those who have instructed many in uprightousness as bright as stars for all eternity" -Daniel 12:3

Here's also what the prolific, exquisite GODy sed: 'the more you shall honor Me, the more I shall bless you' -the Infant Jesus of Prague.

Go git'm, girl. You're incredible. See you Upstairs. I won't be joining'm in the nasty Abyss where Isis prowls
eklektikmantra.blogspot.com

-YOUTHwitheTRUTH
-------------------------------
PS Need some uncommon, unique, uncivilized names? Lemme gonna gitcha started, brudda:

Oak Woods, Franky Sparks, Athena Noble, Autumn Rose, Faith Bishop, Dolly Martin, Willow Rhodes, Cocoa Major, Roman Stone, Bullwark Burnhart, Magnus Wilde, Kardiak Arrest, Will Wright, Goldy Silvers, Penelope Summers, Sophie Sharp, Violet Snow, Lizzy Roach, BoxxaRoxx, Aunty Dotey, Romero Stark, Zacharia Neptoon, Mercurio Morrissey, Fritz & Felix Franz, Victor Payne, Isabella Silverstein, Mercedes Kennedy, Redding Rust, Martini Phoenix, Ivy Wool, Sower Wolf, Yankee Cooky, b9...

God blessa youse
-Fr. Sarducci, ol SNL