That’s the audacious promise Walt Whitman makes in the beginning of the American epic “Song of Myself.” I know I rant about Whitman around here all the time, but this time I have a reason.
Hurrican Ike has displaced my Uncle Bill and Aunt Merrie from their home in Galveston. I can’t do much for them–but I know Uncle Bill loves Whitman. So I’m going to record Whitman for Uncle Bill. The rest of you are welcome to listen too. Or read along at with a cool annotated version of the text from Virginia Commonwealth University.
{ 6 comments }
you are very special…
and i guess uncle bill thought so to.
What a treat. I’ll listen later when I have some quiet time.
Really good reading. Makes me feel like I possess the origin of all poems. Or at least of all Whitman poems. : )
I listened several times. What a great interpretation. What a wonderful verbal storm! Quite audacious, appropriate to the original poet.
Sorry to hear about your Uncle and Aunt. Will they be able to return, or is their home gone?
Sorry to hear about your Uncle and Aunt. Will they be able to return, or is their home gone?
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