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Walt Whitman was well read, despite the fact he didn’t recieve any formal education beyond his youth. He had knowledge of medicine and religion among other things. I selected this because I didn’t understand the context. Walking the teokallis, spotted with gore from the stone and knife-beating the serpent skin drum; Teocallis is another word for Aztec […] […] There is no excerpt because this is a protected post. […] When I attended class on last Tuesday I did a bit of thinking and this post is what came from it: Someone one once told me there is a difference between a scientific journal and a poem. A scientific journal is meant to be interpreted in one way while a poem can be looked at from […] […] So far I think the class is a challenging one, but good because its not what I am used to. I am used to the ordinary tests, quizzes, and exams every so often, but I think this class has changed the whole traditional meaning of an English 1275 class, for the better. Walt Whitman is an […] […] September 15th Until registering this course I haven’t known anything about Whitman and I thought that the course would be similar to other literature classes. At first day of class it was surprising for me that class was online based which really makes me enjoy reading other’s writings and being able to ask questions and […] […] Sep 15th Oatakan (image gloss) “I pass death with the dying, and birth with the new-washed babe …and am not contained between my hat and boots, And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good. The earth good, and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good. I am not an earth nor an adjunct of earth, I am […] […] “In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barleycorn less, And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them. And I know I am solid and sound, To me the converging objects for the universe perpetually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the […] […] Upon registering for the class, I immediately bought the three books required. Not knowing which book would be first, I began with Walt Whitman’s New York: From Manhattan to Montauk. I immediately fell in love with his work as my family has been in Brooklyn since the 1800s, so I feel some kinship to the […] […] To be in any form, what is that? If nothing lay more developed the quahaug and its callous shell were enough. Mine is no callous shell, I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop, They seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me. I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and am happy, To touch […] […] “I saw the marriage of the trapper in the open air in the far west, the bride was a red girl, Her father and his friends sat near cross-legged and dumbly smoking, they had moccasins to their feet and large thick blankets hanging from their shoulders, On a bank lounged the trapper, he was drest mostly in skins, his luxuriant beard […] […] |