The Rosy Armpit of the Internet | Finer than prayer!(?)

This week, Richard Wright talks to Whitman and I try to listen.

“What don’t you know about Whitman yet?” In his introduction to my copy of LoG’s “Deathbed Edition,” William Carlos Williams to  alludes some kind of consensus among poetry scholars (I guess) that Whitman’s writing eventually runs out of steam, that his poetic sensibilities lose the vigor of some of his earlier poems and end up […]

How not to feel human while reading Whitman

Whitman in Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer.

This is the second instalment in a series of posts meant to dig Whitman out the places people put him in, overtly or otherwise.  (I count Chelsea’s Ginsberg entry as the first.)  Since Whitman so lustily “bequeaths” himself to the world, hoping that every reader will exceed his work (and thereby add grandeur to it), […]

A brief index of the more colorful place names in “Song of the Broad-Axe.”

Concerning the limits for women down the ostensible Open Road.

“The camera and the plate are prepared, the lady must sit for her            daguerrotype, The bride unrumples her white dress, the minutehand of the           clock moves slowly, The opium eater reclines with rigid head and just-opened lips, The prostitute draggles her shawl, her bonnet bobs on her                tipsy and pimpled neck, The […]

On the weasliness of Whitman’s generosity.

S-words: a reference to the eckshtrordnury Sean Connery, as first evoked in Brady Earnhardt’s “Whitman is not Bond” course introduction.