Song of Myself, an excerpt

I read these words on the bus home from work.  My body responded to the amusement of the stranger who sat beside me.  But how could my body not?

“Loafe with me on the grass … loose the stop from your throat,

Not words, not music or rhyme I want …. not custom or lecture,

not even the best,

Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

I mind how we lay in June, such a transparent summer morning;

You settled your head athwart my hips and gently turned over

upon me,

And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue

to my barestript heart,

And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet.”

(Walt Whitman, 1855)


~ by justmorgan on May 19, 2009.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: