Walt Whitman’s Thursday Love Poem

Time for a Thursday Love Poem. Since it’s been a while, take a moment to skip back to the poem that started it all: “Thursday,” by Edna St. Vincent Millay. That first Thursday Love Poem feature was posted almost five years ago, and you can check it out with my reading of that little piece…

David Reads “The Dalliance of the Eagles,” by Walt Whitman

Well, I haven’t written much about birds lately, as my son the Monkey, likes to point out, so since spring is finally here I stopped my car on the way home yesterday by some ponds around the quarry. I was happy to see some waterfowl, a few common mergansers, along with the requisite Canada Geese, and some ducks…

There’s Something Wrong with my Whitman Book

There’s something wrong with my Whitman book–it’s too clean. I bought it new because I couldn’t find it used, and the pages are so white and clinical. Leaves of Grass should be on paper growing dark with age, folded and wrinkled through frequent use. It’s hard to read crisp, pristine pages proclaiming the secret of the twenty-ninth bather. The book belongs in the woods, not on a shelf.

A bit of genius that just made me so happy to read tonight. It’s good to know I am not alone in such thoughts, but I could never have thought to put it into these words of Ricky’s I’m downright jealous in fact. I wish I had written this. It’s a poem in prose.  

Thank you, Ricky, it’s good to meet a man as addicted to books as I am to poetry itself. I cannot think of these as bad obsessions. 

Whitman’s Birthday Weekend, and Shopping with Ginsberg

Well, Mr. Whitman’s birthday was on Thursday the 31st, and I had vowed to continue celebrating throughout the weekend. My birthday post for my Daddy/Uncle didn’t make it online until a little after midnight in the wee hours of Friday morning, and you can check that out here. I was thinking of bringing you another…