Sunday, September 9, 2012

52 Poems (week 50)

I have a tiny printed book of Walt Whitman poems, just a selected few including 'I Sing The Body Electric'. It was a book I scored for two dollars and I think I've dog-eared and underlined most pages. 

The sex of 'A Woman Waits for Me' is strange and distant and I'm not sure why I like the poem but still feel uncomfortable when I'm done reading it. 
..Through you I drain the pent-up rives of myself,
In you I wrap a thousand onward years,
On you I graft the grafts of the best beloever of me and America,
The drops I distil upon you shall grow fierce and althletic girls, new artists, musicians and singers,
The babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn...

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