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September, 2009:

For Brooklyn

Sep 30th, 2009
by mscanlon.
Comments are off for this post

Hi CUNY Whitman scholars,

Here at UMW we’ve been finding poems that mention or respond to Whitman.  This poem doesn’t do so directly, but it focuses on a love of Brooklyn that may resonate with your readings now:

“On Leaving Brooklyn”

after Psalm 137

If I forget thee

let my tongue forget the songs

it sang in this strange land

and my heart forget the secrets

only a stranger can learn.

____

Borough of churches, borough of crack,

if I forget how ailanthus trees sprout

on the rooftops, how these streets

end in water and light,

let my eyes grow nearsighted.

____

Let my blood forget

the map of its travels

and my other blood cease

its slow tug toward the sea

if I do not remember,

____

if I do not always consider thee

my Babylon, my Jerusalem.

–Julia Kasdorf, from Eve’s Striptease

For Brooklyn

Sep 30th, 2009
by mscanlon.
Comments are off for this post

Hi CUNY Whitman scholars,

Here at UMW we’ve been finding poems that mention or respond to Whitman.  This poem doesn’t do so directly, but it focuses on a love of Brooklyn that may resonate with your readings now:

“On Leaving Brooklyn”

after Psalm 137

If I forget thee

let my tongue forget the songs

it sang in this strange land

and my heart forget the secrets

only a stranger can learn.

____

Borough of churches, borough of crack,

if I forget how ailanthus trees sprout

on the rooftops, how these streets

end in water and light,

let my eyes grow nearsighted.

____

Let my blood forget

the map of its travels

and my other blood cease

its slow tug toward the sea

if I do not remember,

____

if I do not always consider thee

my Babylon, my Jerusalem.

–Julia Kasdorf, from Eve’s Striptease

For Brooklyn

Sep 30th, 2009
by mscanlon.
Comments are off for this post

Hi CUNY Whitman scholars,

Here at UMW we’ve been finding poems that mention or respond to Whitman.  This poem doesn’t do so directly, but it focuses on a love of Brooklyn that may resonate with your readings now:

“On Leaving Brooklyn”

after Psalm 137

If I forget thee

let my tongue forget the songs

it sang in this strange land

and my heart forget the secrets

only a stranger can learn.

____

Borough of churches, borough of crack,

if I forget how ailanthus trees sprout

on the rooftops, how these streets

end in water and light,

let my eyes grow nearsighted.

____

Let my blood forget

the map of its travels

and my other blood cease

its slow tug toward the sea

if I do not remember,

____

if I do not always consider thee

my Babylon, my Jerusalem.

–Julia Kasdorf, from Eve’s Striptease

Religious Transformation in Whitman’s “The Song of the Universal”

Sep 30th, 2009
by jmgibbs.
Comments are off for this post

Having completed my explication previous to reading Betsy Erkkila’s excerpts from Whitman the Political Poet, I was surprised to find that my findings in the poem, that the speaker of the poem begins the last section of the poem believing in the natural and ends this section with a prayer to a specific god, mimicked Whitman’s own religious transformation. While it isn’t necessarily a safe theoretical move to connect Whitman with the speaker of the poem, there is a definitive correlation. Whitman’s all inclusive, “every man,” attitude in the universalistic-nature of religion faded towards the end of his life and he focused instead on a more conservative religious view:

Physically paralysed and politically disillusioned, Whitman moves in “Prayer of Columbus.” as in “Passage to India.” toward a more traditional religious faith. Whereas the early Whitman had consistently railed against those religion systems that postulated a divine authority outside the self, in “Prayer of Columbus,” he utters his own prayer, yielding the authority of self and the command of the democratic ship to the divine “Steersman” in the sky. The gesture measures the distances between the early and late Whitman and the extent of his disillusionment with America’s experiment in democracy. (Erkkila 283-4)

Keeping this in mind, here is an excerpt from my extensive (11 pages extensive) explication. Note: the poem is 65 lines long, a 4-5 page explication could not have been done.

The speakers generalized inclusivity is short-lived, however, because in the next stanza America is separated from the rest of the world:

The measur’d faiths of other lands, the grandeurs of the past,

Are not for thee, but grandeurs of thine own,

Deific faiths and amplitudes, absorbing, comprehending all,

All eligible to all. (ll. 48–51)

Related undoubtedly to the apparent lack of religion in the poem thus far, the speaker clearly delineates between American’s “religion” and the organized religions of the rest of the world in this stanza. The line “Are not for thee, but grandeurs of thine own” (l. 49) lends itself to the believe in the power of nature, like the imagery of the third section creates an impression of. The “religion” of nature excludes no one—“All eligible to all” (l. 51)—once again introducing inclusivity.

However, the last part of the poem completely deviates from this pattern of being all encompassing and singles out the poet in a relationship with a particular deity:

The fifth stanza of the poem, rather than leaving the reader with the previous imagery of fecundity, turns into a prayer between the speaker and an unidentified god-figure. I say unidentified because, as can be seen earlier in section four, the speaker has by-and-large rejected traditional formalized religion. Rather than the “scheme” being the sole controlling factor in the journey towards the idea, the speaker of the poem seems to have a change of heart:

Give me O God to sing that thought

Give me, give him or her I love this quenchless faith,

In Thy ensemble, whatever else withheld withhold not from us,

Believe in plan of Thee enclosed in Time and Space,

Heath, peace, salvation universal. (ll. 57–61)

This change from the language of the traditional “Muse” to a formalized “God” shows a change in the speaker of the poem that isn’t fully explained in the four sections of the poem. Is this “God” that the speaker addresses a means of speaking to the force of nature that is atypical? Or is this one of the many incongrueties of the poem as a whole?

It is because of these incongruities (this contradictory stance on religion only being one) that the poem generally fails to impart the reader with any sense of meaning.

While this may not be a radical revelation, I find it to be reassuring. I have never worked closely with any Whitman texts before, so seeing that my reading is not completely off-target is fortifying, to say the least.

Though I generally have a difficult time connecting myself to the criticism of Whitman’s works, Erkkila’s article seemed to be more accessible than a majority of the research we’ve read in the class. Perhaps it’s the connection with the historical that I find to be the key to making Whitman make sense, but that’s neither here nor there.

Erkkila, Betsy. Whitman the Political Poet. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1989. Print.
Whitman, Walt. “The Song of the Universal.” Walt Whitman: Poetry and Prose. Ed. Justin Kaplan. New York, NY: The Library of America, 1996. Print.

Religious Transformation in Whitman’s “The Song of the Universal”

Sep 30th, 2009
by jmgibbs.
Comments are off for this post

Having completed my explication previous to reading Betsy Erkkila’s excerpts from Whitman the Political Poet, I was surprised to find that my findings in the poem, that the speaker of the poem begins the last section of the poem believing in the natural and ends this section with a prayer to a specific god, mimicked Whitman’s own religious transformation. While it isn’t necessarily a safe theoretical move to connect Whitman with the speaker of the poem, there is a definitive correlation. Whitman’s all inclusive, “every man,” attitude in the universalistic-nature of religion faded towards the end of his life and he focused instead on a more conservative religious view:

Physically paralysed and politically disillusioned, Whitman moves in “Prayer of Columbus.” as in “Passage to India.” toward a more traditional religious faith. Whereas the early Whitman had consistently railed against those religion systems that postulated a divine authority outside the self, in “Prayer of Columbus,” he utters his own prayer, yielding the authority of self and the command of the democratic ship to the divine “Steersman” in the sky. The gesture measures the distances between the early and late Whitman and the extent of his disillusionment with America’s experiment in democracy. (Erkkila 283-4)

Keeping this in mind, here is an excerpt from my extensive (11 pages extensive) explication. Note: the poem is 65 lines long, a 4-5 page explication could not have been done.

The speakers generalized inclusivity is short-lived, however, because in the next stanza America is separated from the rest of the world:

The measur’d faiths of other lands, the grandeurs of the past,

Are not for thee, but grandeurs of thine own,

Deific faiths and amplitudes, absorbing, comprehending all,

All eligible to all. (ll. 48–51)

Related undoubtedly to the apparent lack of religion in the poem thus far, the speaker clearly delineates between American’s “religion” and the organized religions of the rest of the world in this stanza. The line “Are not for thee, but grandeurs of thine own” (l. 49) lends itself to the believe in the power of nature, like the imagery of the third section creates an impression of. The “religion” of nature excludes no one—“All eligible to all” (l. 51)—once again introducing inclusivity.

However, the last part of the poem completely deviates from this pattern of being all encompassing and singles out the poet in a relationship with a particular deity:

The fifth stanza of the poem, rather than leaving the reader with the previous imagery of fecundity, turns into a prayer between the speaker and an unidentified god-figure. I say unidentified because, as can be seen earlier in section four, the speaker has by-and-large rejected traditional formalized religion. Rather than the “scheme” being the sole controlling factor in the journey towards the idea, the speaker of the poem seems to have a change of heart:

Give me O God to sing that thought

Give me, give him or her I love this quenchless faith,

In Thy ensemble, whatever else withheld withhold not from us,

Believe in plan of Thee enclosed in Time and Space,

Heath, peace, salvation universal. (ll. 57–61)

This change from the language of the traditional “Muse” to a formalized “God” shows a change in the speaker of the poem that isn’t fully explained in the four sections of the poem. Is this “God” that the speaker addresses a means of speaking to the force of nature that is atypical? Or is this one of the many incongrueties of the poem as a whole?

It is because of these incongruities (this contradictory stance on religion only being one) that the poem generally fails to impart the reader with any sense of meaning.

While this may not be a radical revelation, I find it to be reassuring. I have never worked closely with any Whitman texts before, so seeing that my reading is not completely off-target is fortifying, to say the least.

Though I generally have a difficult time connecting myself to the criticism of Whitman’s works, Erkkila’s article seemed to be more accessible than a majority of the research we’ve read in the class. Perhaps it’s the connection with the historical that I find to be the key to making Whitman make sense, but that’s neither here nor there.

Erkkila, Betsy. Whitman the Political Poet. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1989. Print.
Whitman, Walt. “The Song of the Universal.” Walt Whitman: Poetry and Prose. Ed. Justin Kaplan. New York, NY: The Library of America, 1996. Print.

Religious Transformation in Whitman’s “The Song of the Universal”

Sep 30th, 2009
by jmgibbs.
Comments are off for this post

Having completed my explication previous to reading Betsy Erkkila’s excerpts from Whitman the Political Poet, I was surprised to find that my findings in the poem, that the speaker of the poem begins the last section of the poem believing in the natural and ends this section with a prayer to a specific god, mimicked Whitman’s own religious transformation. While it isn’t necessarily a safe theoretical move to connect Whitman with the speaker of the poem, there is a definitive correlation. Whitman’s all inclusive, “every man,” attitude in the universalistic-nature of religion faded towards the end of his life and he focused instead on a more conservative religious view:

Physically paralysed and politically disillusioned, Whitman moves in “Prayer of Columbus.” as in “Passage to India.” toward a more traditional religious faith. Whereas the early Whitman had consistently railed against those religion systems that postulated a divine authority outside the self, in “Prayer of Columbus,” he utters his own prayer, yielding the authority of self and the command of the democratic ship to the divine “Steersman” in the sky. The gesture measures the distances between the early and late Whitman and the extent of his disillusionment with America’s experiment in democracy. (Erkkila 283-4)

Keeping this in mind, here is an excerpt from my extensive (11 pages extensive) explication. Note: the poem is 65 lines long, a 4-5 page explication could not have been done.

The speakers generalized inclusivity is short-lived, however, because in the next stanza America is separated from the rest of the world:

The measur’d faiths of other lands, the grandeurs of the past,

Are not for thee, but grandeurs of thine own,

Deific faiths and amplitudes, absorbing, comprehending all,

All eligible to all. (ll. 48–51)

Related undoubtedly to the apparent lack of religion in the poem thus far, the speaker clearly delineates between American’s “religion” and the organized religions of the rest of the world in this stanza. The line “Are not for thee, but grandeurs of thine own” (l. 49) lends itself to the believe in the power of nature, like the imagery of the third section creates an impression of. The “religion” of nature excludes no one—“All eligible to all” (l. 51)—once again introducing inclusivity.

However, the last part of the poem completely deviates from this pattern of being all encompassing and singles out the poet in a relationship with a particular deity:

The fifth stanza of the poem, rather than leaving the reader with the previous imagery of fecundity, turns into a prayer between the speaker and an unidentified god-figure. I say unidentified because, as can be seen earlier in section four, the speaker has by-and-large rejected traditional formalized religion. Rather than the “scheme” being the sole controlling factor in the journey towards the idea, the speaker of the poem seems to have a change of heart:

Give me O God to sing that thought

Give me, give him or her I love this quenchless faith,

In Thy ensemble, whatever else withheld withhold not from us,

Believe in plan of Thee enclosed in Time and Space,

Heath, peace, salvation universal. (ll. 57–61)

This change from the language of the traditional “Muse” to a formalized “God” shows a change in the speaker of the poem that isn’t fully explained in the four sections of the poem. Is this “God” that the speaker addresses a means of speaking to the force of nature that is atypical? Or is this one of the many incongrueties of the poem as a whole?

It is because of these incongruities (this contradictory stance on religion only being one) that the poem generally fails to impart the reader with any sense of meaning.

While this may not be a radical revelation, I find it to be reassuring. I have never worked closely with any Whitman texts before, so seeing that my reading is not completely off-target is fortifying, to say the least.

Though I generally have a difficult time connecting myself to the criticism of Whitman’s works, Erkkila’s article seemed to be more accessible than a majority of the research we’ve read in the class. Perhaps it’s the connection with the historical that I find to be the key to making Whitman make sense, but that’s neither here nor there.

Erkkila, Betsy. Whitman the Political Poet. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 1989. Print.
Whitman, Walt. “The Song of the Universal.” Walt Whitman: Poetry and Prose. Ed. Justin Kaplan. New York, NY: The Library of America, 1996. Print.

Elizabeth for October 1st: Passion and the Act-Poem

Sep 29th, 2009
by lizmoser.
Comments are off for this post

Is it fair to write Whitman off as merely bawdy?

If the highly explicit passages from Children of Adam and Calamus are noted, Whitman pulls no stops on shocking and exciting his readers with his revelations of the passion of lovers.  But Whitman makes an explicit reference to a higher purpose in From Pent-up Aching Rivers–not only does he sing the praises of the body, but he aims at a higher social purpose.

In the very beginning of the poem, Whitman states that sex is so consuming and essential to him that he will stand against social impropriety to proclaim it: “From what I am determin’d to make illustrious, even if I stand sole among men/From my own voice resonant, singing the phallus” (p. 248-9.)  The passion defines his identity, “from that if myself without which I were nothing” (248.)  The joyful union of two lovers is one of the greatest compelling forces behind Whitman’s verse that it is difficult to imagine what his poetry would look like without its drive.

The passage is full of a constantly changing dynamic of yield and command, possession and submission.  The master to the pilot, the general to his men–Whitman details lovemaking by connecting it to other examples of trust and companionship between men.  This opens up the privacy of the lovers’ tryst to a more general spectrum of respect and love, which in turn is fed back in to develop the lovers’ relationship.

Most touching of all, Whitman calls the body an “act-poem” wherein lovemaking is nature’s poetry, a harmony of two voices.  The act is divine, blessed and not shameful.  The “divine father” is the seed of many generations of great children, just as Adam is the root of all of mankind.  In the conclusion of the poem, we are directed to celebrate the act of union and the children that it produces.  While working to undo all the deep-seated religious and cultural taboos associated with sex, Whitman describes the act beautifully, praises its worth and creates from it a pure image of its divine origin and divine works.

Jillian for 10/1

Sep 29th, 2009
by jillians.
Comments are off for this post

I never realized how important a title was when it came to poetry.

Last semester, in a class with Dr. Sill ,we had a class conversation about titles of chapters in novels.  Some of the students did not feel a chapter title was necessary, while others liked it as a form of foreshadowing.  I fell somewhere in the middle of this debate.  Where novels are concerned, I don’t think chapter titles are necessary but I do enjoy them when they are included.

Poetry is an entirely different beast for me.  Without a title I felt lost.  Completely lost.  The funny thing is, for the most part even when they are titles, I struggle with understanding poems.  But I still find it easier to have one as a means of gaining a possible insight to what I will be reading.  In addition to that, a title is a mechanism to draw a reader into the poem.  I know that if I am given a choice, I am more likely to be drawn to a poem that it titled in a way that catched my eye.

So, imagine my relief when I discovered that there were titles for this weeks readings, Children of Adam and Calamus.  Of course, like with the previous readings titles, all of them are simply the first line of the poem; still, better late than never.

In Calamus, which I liked better than Children of Adam, the title I was most drawn to was Are You the New Person Drawn toward Me?.  This title made me want to read and moreover, after reading, it made me want to write.

As I have previously written, Whitman and poetry are both a bit of a struggle for me, so finding something to connect with means a great deal.  I connected to every line of this poem; it has been tough for me to understand how people relate so deeply to poetry…until now.

I have noted my thoughts in red.

Are you the new person drawn toward me? The title/first line sets up the scene for me.  It made me think of what I ask myself when meeting new people.  To some extent, it is much like this.  I wonder what I will be in this persons life and what they will be in mine.  Is this someone you will know for one minute, one day, one year?  A lifetime?
To begin with take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose; When meeting someone the first time, it is hard to be ones “real” self.  I feel like there are many different versions of me and in my life people, depending on who they are, know a certain version.  Some people get the surface, some get a little more and some get the whole deal, but in the first meeting it is all about first impressions.  And in my opinion, they don’t offer a whole lot in the long run.
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?
Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?
Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy’d satisfaction?
Do you think I am trusty and faithful?
Do you see no further than this facade, this smooth and tolerant
manner of me? These lines express further the idea of getting to know someone.  When I meet someone, it takes me time to let them in, to feel a trust and a love but for some this happens quickly.  It is difficult not to question ones reasons or motives.  It is hard to let down walls and build trusts.
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?
Have you no thought O dreamer that it may be all maya, illusion?  This last line really got to me.  It is easy to dream up a connection with someone that isn’t truly there and it hurts to find out that it wasn’t as real as you thought  I think here, this is the final warning…you can get to know him, but understand that you might get hurt.  What you see may not be what you created.  In a new friendship, and very much so in relationships, it is easy to only see the good and look past all the not so good.  When the real comes out past the surface, you may realize it had all been an illusion.

The older I have gotten the more important real relationships have become in my life.  It has become clear to me what I will and will not tolerate in friendships/relationships.  I think of myself as a very real and true person, but I am also guarded when it comes to letting people in.  I felt a personal relationship with this poem and for the first time this semester, I really felt connected with what Whitman was saying.

 

Jillian for 10/1

Sep 29th, 2009
by jillians.
Comments are off for this post

I never realized how important a title was when it came to poetry.

Last semester, in a class with Dr. Sill ,we had a class conversation about titles of chapters in novels.  Some of the students did not feel a chapter title was necessary, while others liked it as a form of foreshadowing.  I fell somewhere in the middle of this debate.  Where novels are concerned, I don’t think chapter titles are necessary but I do enjoy them when they are included.

Poetry is an entirely different beast for me.  Without a title I felt lost.  Completely lost.  The funny thing is, for the most part even when they are titles, I struggle with understanding poems.  But I still find it easier to have one as a means of gaining a possible insight to what I will be reading.  In addition to that, a title is a mechanism to draw a reader into the poem.  I know that if I am given a choice, I am more likely to be drawn to a poem that it titled in a way that catched my eye.

So, imagine my relief when I discovered that there were titles for this weeks readings, Children of Adam and Calamus.  Of course, like with the previous readings titles, all of them are simply the first line of the poem; still, better late than never.

In Calamus, which I liked better than Children of Adam, the title I was most drawn to was Are You the New Person Drawn toward Me?.  This title made me want to read and moreover, after reading, it made me want to write.

As I have previously written, Whitman and poetry are both a bit of a struggle for me, so finding something to connect with means a great deal.  I connected to every line of this poem; it has been tough for me to understand how people relate so deeply to poetry…until now.

I have noted my thoughts in red.

Are you the new person drawn toward me? The title/first line sets up the scene for me.  It made me think of what I ask myself when meeting new people.  To some extent, it is much like this.  I wonder what I will be in this persons life and what they will be in mine.  Is this someone you will know for one minute, one day, one year?  A lifetime?
To begin with take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose; When meeting someone the first time, it is hard to be ones “real” self.  I feel like there are many different versions of me and in my life people, depending on who they are, know a certain version.  Some people get the surface, some get a little more and some get the whole deal, but in the first meeting it is all about first impressions.  And in my opinion, they don’t offer a whole lot in the long run.
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?
Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?
Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy’d satisfaction?
Do you think I am trusty and faithful?
Do you see no further than this facade, this smooth and tolerant
manner of me? These lines express further the idea of getting to know someone.  When I meet someone, it takes me time to let them in, to feel a trust and a love but for some this happens quickly.  It is difficult not to question ones reasons or motives.  It is hard to let down walls and build trusts.
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?
Have you no thought O dreamer that it may be all maya, illusion?  This last line really got to me.  It is easy to dream up a connection with someone that isn’t truly there and it hurts to find out that it wasn’t as real as you thought  I think here, this is the final warning…you can get to know him, but understand that you might get hurt.  What you see may not be what you created.  In a new friendship, and very much so in relationships, it is easy to only see the good and look past all the not so good.  When the real comes out past the surface, you may realize it had all been an illusion.

The older I have gotten the more important real relationships have become in my life.  It has become clear to me what I will and will not tolerate in friendships/relationships.  I think of myself as a very real and true person, but I am also guarded when it comes to letting people in.  I felt a personal relationship with this poem and for the first time this semester, I really felt connected with what Whitman was saying.

 

Jillian for 10/1

Sep 29th, 2009
by jillians.
Comments are off for this post

I never realized how important a title was when it came to poetry.

Last semester, in a class with Dr. Sill ,we had a class conversation about titles of chapters in novels.  Some of the students did not feel a chapter title was necessary, while others liked it as a form of foreshadowing.  I fell somewhere in the middle of this debate.  Where novels are concerned, I don’t think chapter titles are necessary but I do enjoy them when they are included.

Poetry is an entirely different beast for me.  Without a title I felt lost.  Completely lost.  The funny thing is, for the most part even when they are titles, I struggle with understanding poems.  But I still find it easier to have one as a means of gaining a possible insight to what I will be reading.  In addition to that, a title is a mechanism to draw a reader into the poem.  I know that if I am given a choice, I am more likely to be drawn to a poem that it titled in a way that catched my eye.

So, imagine my relief when I discovered that there were titles for this weeks readings, Children of Adam and Calamus.  Of course, like with the previous readings titles, all of them are simply the first line of the poem; still, better late than never.

In Calamus, which I liked better than Children of Adam, the title I was most drawn to was Are You the New Person Drawn toward Me?.  This title made me want to read and moreover, after reading, it made me want to write.

As I have previously written, Whitman and poetry are both a bit of a struggle for me, so finding something to connect with means a great deal.  I connected to every line of this poem; it has been tough for me to understand how people relate so deeply to poetry…until now.

I have noted my thoughts in red.

Are you the new person drawn toward me? The title/first line sets up the scene for me.  It made me think of what I ask myself when meeting new people.  To some extent, it is much like this.  I wonder what I will be in this persons life and what they will be in mine.  Is this someone you will know for one minute, one day, one year?  A lifetime?
To begin with take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose; When meeting someone the first time, it is hard to be ones “real” self.  I feel like there are many different versions of me and in my life people, depending on who they are, know a certain version.  Some people get the surface, some get a little more and some get the whole deal, but in the first meeting it is all about first impressions.  And in my opinion, they don’t offer a whole lot in the long run.
Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal?
Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover?
Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy’d satisfaction?
Do you think I am trusty and faithful?
Do you see no further than this facade, this smooth and tolerant
manner of me? These lines express further the idea of getting to know someone.  When I meet someone, it takes me time to let them in, to feel a trust and a love but for some this happens quickly.  It is difficult not to question ones reasons or motives.  It is hard to let down walls and build trusts.
Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man?
Have you no thought O dreamer that it may be all maya, illusion?  This last line really got to me.  It is easy to dream up a connection with someone that isn’t truly there and it hurts to find out that it wasn’t as real as you thought  I think here, this is the final warning…you can get to know him, but understand that you might get hurt.  What you see may not be what you created.  In a new friendship, and very much so in relationships, it is easy to only see the good and look past all the not so good.  When the real comes out past the surface, you may realize it had all been an illusion.

The older I have gotten the more important real relationships have become in my life.  It has become clear to me what I will and will not tolerate in friendships/relationships.  I think of myself as a very real and true person, but I am also guarded when it comes to letting people in.  I felt a personal relationship with this poem and for the first time this semester, I really felt connected with what Whitman was saying.

 

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