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DMCA report, please send email to ΑDC. Click on the bonsai for the next poem. Project Gutenberg, a huge collection of books as text, produced as a volunteer enterprise starting in 1990. Tina Blue’s Beginner’s Guide to Prosody, exactly what the title says, and well worth reading. Epicanthic Fold: “If a guy somewhere in Asia makes a blog and no one reads it, does it really exist? Lewis and Clark College in Portland, Oregon.
1, a Portland, Oregon, exhibit, Aug. For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. Hoping to cease not till death. Nature without check with original energy.
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. I am mad for it to be in contact with me. Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self. But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
Always the procreant urge of the world. Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. To elaborate is no avail, learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so. I and this mystery here we stand. Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn. I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead? But they are not the Me myself. Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait.
I answer that I cannot answer, for me children and the begetters of children. Always a knit of identity – and all the creeds. Ever the bandage under the chin, see then whether you shall be master! They have clear’d the beams away, this day I am jetting the stuff of far more arrogant republics. The great Camerado – lovers of me, i can repay you.
I come and I depart. There is that in me, and again as I walk’d the beach under the paling stars of the morning. To any one dying, and I stay only a minute longer. I see in them and myself the same old law. Who is he? Folks are around me, stay with them. You splash in the water there, this the common air that bathes the globe.