I posted this on one of your threads last year, jj. Do you remember? From Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself. It was when we hardly even had any moderation. You were so happy with it, you said it expressed so much of you, of your life’s work, your vision. So I thought since I’ll be taking a long vacation soon, that you’d like to see it again before I go.
* * *
I speak the pass-word primeval, I give the sign of democracy,
By God! I will accept nothing which all cannot have their
counterpart of on the same terms.
Through me many long dumb voices,
Voices of the interminable generations of prisoners and slaves,
Voices of the diseas’d and despairing and of thieves and dwarfs,
Voices of cycles of preparation and accretion,
And of the threads that connect the stars, and of wombs and of the
And of the rights of them the others are down upon,
Of the deform’d, trivial, flat, foolish, despised,
Fog in the air, beetles rolling balls of dung.
Through me forbidden voices,
Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil’d and I remove the veil,
Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur’d.
I do not press my fingers across my mouth,
I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and
Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.
I believe in the flesh and the appetites,
Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me
is a miracle.
* * *
I know…it’s hard…..
it’s a see-saw, this website…
but you’ll find the balance…
we’re already doing very well…