Walt Whitman
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skeetsofgrass.bsky.social
Walt Whitman
@skeetsofgrass.bsky.social
The 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass, in order, little by little, over and over.
Confused .... a pastreading .... another, but with darkness yet.
November 26, 2025 at 6:49 AM
I turn but do not extricate myself;
November 26, 2025 at 4:49 AM
Swiftly and out of sight is borne the brave corpse.
November 26, 2025 at 2:49 AM
His beautiful body is borne in the circling eddies .... it 1s continually bruised on rocks,
November 26, 2025 at 12:49 AM
The slapping eddies are spotted with his blood .... they bear him away .... they roll him and swing him and turn him:
November 25, 2025 at 10:49 PM
He is baffled and banged and bruised .... he holds out while his strength holds out,
November 25, 2025 at 8:49 PM
Steady and long he struggles;
November 25, 2025 at 6:49 PM
Will you kill the courageous giant? Will you kill him in the prime of his middle age?
November 25, 2025 at 4:49 PM
What are you doing you ruffianly red-trickled waves?
November 25, 2025 at 2:49 PM
I hate the swift-running eddies that would dash him headforemost on the rocks.
November 25, 2025 at 12:49 PM
I see his white body .... I see his undaunted eyes;
November 25, 2025 at 10:49 AM
His brown hair lies close and even to his head .... he strikes out with courageous arms .... he urges himself with his legs.
November 25, 2025 at 8:49 AM
I sec a beautiful gigantic swimmer swimming naked through the eddies of the sea,
November 25, 2025 at 6:49 AM
Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.
November 25, 2025 at 4:49 AM
It seems to me that everything in the light and air ought to be happy;
November 25, 2025 at 2:49 AM
It is dark here underground .... it is not evil or pain here .... it is black here, for reasons.
November 25, 2025 at 12:49 AM
A shroud I see – and I am the shroud .... I wrap a body and lie in the coffin;
November 24, 2025 at 10:49 PM
I see the sparkles of starshine on the icy and pallid earth.
November 24, 2025 at 8:49 PM
It is I too .... the sleepless widow looking out on the winter midnight,
November 24, 2025 at 6:49 PM
I sit low in a strawbottom chair and carefully darn my grandson’s stockings.
November 24, 2025 at 4:49 PM
It is my face yellow and wrinkled instead of the old woman’s,
November 24, 2025 at 2:49 PM
Perfume and youth course through me, and I am their wake.
November 24, 2025 at 12:49 PM
I descend my western course .... my sinews are flaccid,
November 24, 2025 at 10:49 AM
And liquor is spilled on lips and bosoms by touching glasses, and the best liquor afterward.
November 24, 2025 at 8:49 AM
The white teeth stay, and the boss-tooth advances in darkness,
November 24, 2025 at 6:49 AM