Celebrating Walt Whitman on his 200th Birthday

Collage by Christopher Luna

To Whitman the song of the boys

sounds like a strawberry oboe

            hot boys play at the feet of the old bard

            grass poking their toes as they dance

                        and when they lie in it

            unburdened of their uniforms

            blades tickle their burgeoning testicles

           

            as the old man

            watches from the porch

                        smiling

            all that is unsettling

            all that is forbidden

            all that liberates instantaneously

            all that brings joy

            or unlocks weary/battered minds                   

            all that I seek to veil/hide

            all that pleases or displeases

            all that incites or provokes

            all that invites further investigation

            all that whispers, caresses, kisses

            all that perplexes or encourages wishes

            all that is human in us – including both the

                        impulse to create and to destroy

            all that I fear

            all that I reject as a matter of principle

            I hereby embrace, forgive, and claim ownership of

            Of these things I sing

            It is these things that are holy

Christopher Luna