I Sing the Body Electric/ Whitman

A woman’s Body at auction!
She too is not only herself—she is the teeming mother of mothers;
She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.

Have you ever loved the Body of a woman?
Have you ever loved the Body of a man?
Your father—where is your father?
Your mother—is she living? have you been much with her? and has she been much with you?
—Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all, in all nations and times, all over the earth?

If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred,
And the glory and sweet of a man, is the token of manhood untainted;
And in man or woman, a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is beautiful as the most beautiful face.

Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool that corrupted her own live body?
For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.

A Woman Waits for Me

A Women Waits for Me

They are tann’d in the face by shining suns and blowing winds,

Their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength,

They know how to swim, row, ride, wrestle, shoot, run, strike, retreat, advance, resist, defend themselves…

They are ultimate in their own right-

they are clam, clear, well-possessed of themselves.

Walt Whitman

 

the Secret to Making the Best Person

“Now I see the secret of making the best person: it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.” 

Walt Whitman

 

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Upon, first sight, a tingling fear of the social orphan.  The messenger from a village made of stone.  She wore no ‘safety’ harness, while traveling pagan streets…She had been…deliberately, alone.

But, after a barefoot resistance, I dared to care.

Enamored!  There had been no forsaking the ever-changing moods of her hair.

A blistering fever soon discovered me.  Unearthed, my wants.  My needs.  A constant ache!  Coveting that seasoned tranquility.

Once I found the maiden of my cares.  My spine straightened.  As though, I had been under her watchful stare.  However, like a childish fairy tale from a foolish heart.

I had been left with a bush of burning questions.

And, no one to command me.imageedit_12_2144049063

Just the constant ache of my seasoned tranquility.

 

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Naturally Devoted

If I could wrap the forest in my arms…

I would, with due course,

have abundant charm.

Had life dealt me another hand…

I would be synthetically impoverished…

As in the cloth,

in which I stand.

A mere entity,

am I.

Nothing to relish.

Nothing to deny.

Nonetheless…

I will crawl before the ever-present gift.

The elms.

The oaks.

The creatures.

The wooded abyss.

I will stumble and scramble.

Until my last breath.

Before nature…

I avow my devotion.

Though it render no romantic notion.

 

This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.  

Walt Whitman

 

News from the Woods

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A walk…deep in the New Hampshire woods?  Dark?  Dangerous?  Exclusive or provocative?

Perhaps, but…

‘The solitude is not so irksome as one might think – if we are cut off from good society, we are also delivered from the bad!

  • Jane Carlyle