Tuesday, May 20, 2014

SONG OF MY SELF


Unsrew the locks from the doors !
Unscrew the doors themselves from the jambs !!

You shall no longer take things at second or third hand.
Nor look through the eyes of the dead,
Nor feed on.
The spectres in book.

I tramp a perpetual journey
All goes onward and outward..
And nothing collapse.

And to die is different..
From what anyone supposed and luckier..
If no other in the world be aware, i sit content.
And if each and all be aware, i sit content.

I bequeath my self to the dirt to grow,
From the grass i love.

If you want me again,
Look for me under your bootsoles.
You will hardly know who i am or what i mean.
But i shall be good health to you nevertheless.
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first,
Keep encouraged,
Missing me one place,
Search another..
I stop somewhere waiting for you.


(walt whitman)


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