 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on how to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Gordon McKenzie. Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman Book 3 Song of Myself 41. I am he bringing help for the sick as they pant on their backs, and for strong upright men I bring yet more needed help. I heard what was said of the universe. Heard it, and heard it of several thousand years. It is middling well as far as it goes. But is that all? Magnifying and applying come I, outbidding at the start of the old cautious hucksters, taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah, lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson, buying drafts of Osiris, Isis, Belos, Brahma, Buddha. In my portfolio placing Manitou loose, Allah on a leaf, the crucifix engraved, with Odin and the hideous faced mixitli, and every idol and image taking them all for what they are worth and not a cent more. Admitting they were alive, and did the work of their days. They bore mites as for unfledged birds who have now to rise and fly and sing for themselves. Accepting the rough deific sketches to fill out better in myself, bestowing them freely on each man and woman I see. Discovering as much or more in a framer framing a house. Putting higher claims for him there with his rolled up sleeves, driving the mallet and chisel. Not objecting to special revelations, considering a curl of smoke or a hair on the back of my hand just as curious as any revelation. Lads a hold of fire-engines and hook-and-ladder ropes no less to me than the gods of the antique wars. Minding their voices peal through the crash of destruction. Their brawny limbs passing safe over charred lathes. Their white foreheads whole and unhurt out of the flames. By the mechanic's wife with her babe at her nipple interceding for every person born. Three scythe's at harvest whizzing in a row from three lusty angels with shirts bagged out at their wastes. The snag-toothed hostler with red hair redeeming sins past and to come. Selling all he possesses, travelling on foot to feed lawyers for his brother, and sit by him while he has tried for forgery. What was strewn in the amplest strewing the square rod about me? And not filling the square rod, then. The bull and the bug never worshipped half enough. Dung and dirt more admirable than was dreamed. The supernatural of no account. Myself waiting my time to be one of the Supremes. The day getting ready for me when I shall do as much good as the best and be as prodigious. By my life-lumps, becoming already a creator, putting myself here and now to the ambushed womb of the shadows. 42. A call in the midst of the crowd, my own voice, orotun sweeping and final. Come, my children, come, my boys and girls, my women, household and intimates. Now the performer launches his nerve. He has passed his prelude on the reeds within. Easily written loose-fingered cords, I feel the thrum of your climax and close. My head slews round on my neck. Music rolls, but not from the organ. Folks are around me, but they are no household of mine. Ever the hard unsunk ground, ever the eaters and drinkers, ever the upward and downward sun, ever the air and the ceaseless tides. Ever myself and my neighbors, refreshing, wicked, real, ever the old inexplicable query, ever that thorned thumb, that breath of itches and thirsts. Ever the vexers hoot, hoot, till we find where the sly one hides and bring him forth. Ever love, ever the sobbing liquid of life, ever the bandage under the chin, ever the trestles of death, here and there with dimes on the eyes walking, to feed the greed of the belly the brains liberally spooning, tickets vying, taking, selling, but into the feast never once going. Many sweating, plowing, thrashing, and then the chaff for payment receiving. A few idly owning, and they the wheat continually claiming. This is the city, and I am one of the citizens. Whatever interests the rest interests me. Politics, wars, markets, newspapers, schools, the mayor and council's banks, tariffs, steamships, factories, stocks, stores, real estate, and personal estate. The little plentiful mannequins, skipping around in collars and tailed coats. I am aware who they are. They are positively not worms or fleas. I acknowledge the duplicates of myself. The weakest and shallowest is deathless with me. What I do and say the same awaits for them. Every thought that flounders in me, the same flounders in them. I know perfectly well my own egotism, know my omnivorous lines and must not write any less, and would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself. Not words of routine, this song of mine, but abruptly to question, to leap beyond yet nearer bring. This printed and bound book. But the printer and the printing-office-boy? The well-taken photographs. But your wife or friend close and solid in your arms. The black ship mailed with iron, her mighty guns in her turrets, but the pluck of the captain and engineers. In the houses the dishes and fare and furniture. But the host and hostess and the look out of their eyes. The sky up there. Yet here or next door or across the way. The saints and sages in history. But you yourself? Sermons creeds theology. But the fathomless human brain. And what is reason? And what is love? And what is life? 43. I do not despise you priests. All time the world over. My faith is the greatest of faiths. And the least of faiths. In closing worship ancient and modern and all between ancient and modern. Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five thousand years. Waiting responses from oracles honoring the gods saluting the sun, making a fetish of the first rock or stump, pow-wow-ing with sticks in the circle of obis, helping the lama or Brahmin as he trims the lamps of the idols. Dancing yet through the streets in a phallic procession, wrapped in austere in the woods a gymno-sophist. Drinking mead from the skull-cap, two shastas and Vedas, admirant. Minding the Quran. Walking the teokalus, spotted with gore from the stone and knife, beating the serpent's skin drum, accepting the gospels, accepting him that was crucified, knowing assuredly that he is divine. To the mass kneeling, or the Puritan's prayer rising, or sitting patiently in a pew, ranting and frothing in my insane crisis, or waiting dead-like till my spirit arouses me, looking forth on pavement and land, or outside of pavement and land, belonging to the winders of the circuit of circuits. One of that centripetal and centrifugal gang, I turn and talk like man, leaving charges before a journey. Downhearted doubters dull and excluded, frivolous, sullen, moping, angry, affected, disheartened, atheistical, I know every one of you. I know the sea of torment, doubt, despair, and unbelief. How the flukes splash! How they contort rapid as lightning with spasms and spouts of blood. The at peace bloody flukes of doubters and sullen mopers. I take my place among you as much as among any. The past is the push of you, me all precisely the same. And what is yet untried and afterward is for you me all precisely the same. I do not know what is untried and afterward, but I know it will in its turn prove sufficient and cannot fail. Each who passes is considered. Each who stops is considered. Not single one can it fall. It cannot fall the young man who died and was buried, nor the young woman who died and was put by his side, nor the little child that peeped in at the door and then drew back and was never seen again, nor the old man who has lived without purpose and feels it with bitterness worse than Gaul, nor him in the poor-house, to-brickled by rum and the bad disorder, nor the numberless slaughtered and wrecked, nor the brutish cobu called the ordure of humanity, nor the sacks merely floating with open mouths for food to slip in, nor anything in the earth or down in the oldest graves of the earth, nor anything in the myriads of spheres, nor the myriads of myriads that inhabit them, nor the present, nor the least wisp that is known. Forty-four. It is time to explain myself. Let us stand up. What is known, I strip away. I launch all men and women forward with me into the unknown. The clock indicates the moment. But what does eternity indicate? We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers. There are trillions ahead and trillions ahead of them. Births have brought us richness and variety, and other births will bring us richness and variety. I do not call one greater and one smaller. That which fills its period and place is equal to any. Were mankind murderous, or jealous upon you, my brother, my sister, I am sorry for you. They are not murderous or jealous upon me. All has been gentle with me. I keep no account with lamentation. What have I to do with lamentation? I am an acme of things accomplished, and I an enclosure of things to be. My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs. On every step, bunches of ages and larger bunches between the steps, all below duly traveled, and still I mount and mount. Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me. Far down I see the huge first nothing. I know I was even there. I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist. And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon. Long I was hugged, close, long and long, immense have been the preparations for me. Faithful and friendly the arms that have helped me. Cycles ferried my cradle, rowing and rowing like cheerful boatmen. For room to me stars kept aside in their own rings. They sent influences to look after what was to hold me. Before I was born out of my mother, generations guided me. My embryo has never been torpid. Nothing could overlay it. For it the nebula cohered to an orb. The long, slow strata piled to rest it on. Vast vegetables gave it sustenance. Monstrous soroids transported it in their mouths and deposited it with care. All forces have been steadily employed to complete and delight me. Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul. Forty-five. O span of youth ever pushed elasticity. O manhood balanced, floored and full. My lovers suffocate me, crowding my lips thick in the pores of my skin, jostling me through streets and public halls coming naked to me at night, crying by day, ahoy from the rocks of the river, swinging and chirping over my head, calling my name from flower beds, vines, tangled underbrush. Lighting on every moment of my life, bussing my body with soft balsamic buses, noiselessly passing handfuls out of their hearts and giving them to be mine. Old age, superbly rising. Oh, welcome, ineffable grace of dying days. Every condition promulges not only itself it promulges what grows after and out of itself and the dark hush promulges as much as any. I open my scuttle at night and see the far sprinkled systems and all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge to the rim of the farther systems. Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding outward and outward and forever outward. My son has his son round him obediently wheels. He joins with his partners a group of superior circuit and greater sets follow, making specks of the greatest inside them. There is no stoppage, never can be stoppage. If I, you and the worlds and all beneath or upon their surfaces were this moment reduced back to a pallid float, it would not avail the long run. We should surely bring up again where we now stand and surely go as much farther and then farther and farther. A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic leagues do not hazard the span or make it impatient. They are but parts. Any thing is but a part. See ever so far. There is limitless space outside of that. Count ever so much. There is limitless time around that. My rendezvous is appointed. It is certain. The Lord will be there and wait till I come on perfect terms. The great camarado, the lover true for whom I pine, will be there. 46 I know I have the best of time and space and was never measured and never will be measured. I tramp a perpetual journey. Come, listen all. My signs are a rain-proof coat, shoes and a staff cut from the woods. No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair. I have no chair, no church, no philosophy. I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange. But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll. My left hand hooking you round the waist, my right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public road. Not I, not anyone else can travel that road for you. You must travel it for yourself. It is not far. It is within reach. Perhaps you have been on it since you were born and did not know. Perhaps it is everywhere, on water and on land. Shoulder your duds, dear son, and I will mine. And let us hasten forth. Wonderful cities and free nations we shall fetch as we go. If you tire, give me both burdens and rest the chuff of your hand on my hip and in due time you shall repay the same service to me for after we start we never lie by again. This day before dawn I ascended a hill and looked at the crowded heaven and I said to my spirit when we become the enfolders of those orbs and the pleasure and knowledge of everything in them shall we be filled and satisfied then? And my spirit said no. We but level that lift to pass and continue beyond. You are also asking me questions and I hear you. I answer that I cannot answer. You must find out for yourself. Sit awhile, dear son. There are biscuits to eat and here is milk to drink. But as soon as you sleep and renew yourself in sweet clothes I kiss you with a goodbye kiss and open the gate of your egress hence. Long enough have you dreamed contemptible dreams. Now I wash the gum from your eyes. You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life. Long have you timidly waited holding a plank by the shore. Now I will you to be a bold swimmer. To jump off in the midst of the sea rise again, nod to me, shout and laughingly dash with your hair. 47 I am the teacher of athletes. He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own. He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher. The boy I love the same becomes a man not through derived power but in his own right. Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear fond of his sweetheart relishing well his stake. Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp steel cuts first rate to ride to fight to hit the bull's eye to sail a skiff to sing a song or play on the banjo preferring scars and the beard and faces pitted with smallpox over all latherers and those well tanned to those that keep out of the sun. I teach straying from me. Yet who can stray from me? I follow you, whoever you are, from the present hour my words itch at your ears till you understand them. I do not say these things for a dollar or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat. It is you talking just as much as myself I act as the tongue of you tied in your mouth in mine it begins to be loosened. I swear I will never again mention love or death inside a house and I swear I will never translate myself at all only to him or her who privately stays with me in the open air. If you would understand me go to the heights or water-shore the nearest nat is an explanation and a drop or motion of waves key the maul, the oar, the handsaw second my words no shuttered room or school can commune with me but roughs and little children better than they the young mechanic is closest to me he knows me well the woodman that takes his axe and jug with him shall take me with him all day the farm-boy plowing in the field feels good at the sound of my voice in vessels that sail my words sail I go with fishermen and see men and love them the soldier camped or upon the march is mine on the night air the pending battle many seek me and I do not fail them on that solemn night it may be their last those that know me seek me my face rubs to the hunter's face when he lies down alone in his blanket the driver, thinking of me does not mind the jolt of his wagon the young mother and old mother comprehend me the girl and the wife rest the needle a moment and forget where they are they and all would resume what I have told them forty-eight I have said that the soul is not more than the body and I have said that the body is not more than the soul and nothing not God is greater to one than one's self is and whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral dressed in his shroud and I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth and a glance with an eye or show a bean in its pod confounds the learning of all times and there is no trade or employment but the young man following it may become a hero and there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for the wheeled universe and I say to any man or woman let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes and I say to mankind be not curious about God for I who am curious about each am not curious about God no array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and about death I hear and behold God in every object yet understand God not in the least nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself why should I wish to see God better than this day I see something of God each hour of the twenty-four and each moment then and the faces of men and women I see God and in my own face in the glass I find the letters from God dropped in the street and every one is signed by God's name and I leave them where they are for I know that where so ere I go others will punctually come for ever and ever forty-nine and as to you death and you bitter hug of mortality it is idle to try to alarm me to his work without flinching the acuture comes I see the elder hand pressing receiving supporting I recline by the sills of the exquisite flexible doors and mark the outlet and mark the relief and escape and as to you corpse I think you are good manure but that does not offend me I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing I reach to the leafy lips I reached to the polished breasts of melons and as to you life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths no doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before I hear you whispering there oh stars of heaven oh suns oh grass of graves oh perpetual transfers and promotions if you do not say anything how can I say anything of the turbid pool that lies in the autumn forest of the moon that descends the steeps of the sowing twilight toss sparkles of day and dusk toss on the black stems that decay in the muck toss to the moaning gibberish of the dry limbs I ascend from the moon I ascend from the night I perceive that the ghastly glimmer is noonday sunbeams reflected and taboosh to the steady and central from the offspring great or small fifty there is that in me I do not know what it is but I know it is in me wrenched and sweaty calm and cool then my body becomes I sleep I sleep long I do not know it it is without name it is a word unsaid it is not in any dictionary utterance symbol something it swings on more than earth I swing on to it the creation is the friend whose embracing awakes me perhaps I might tell more outlines I plead for my brothers and sisters do you see all my brothers and sisters it is not chaos or death it is form union plan it is eternal life it is happiness fifty one the past and present wilt I have filled them emptied them and proceed to fill my next fold of the future listener up there what have you to confide to me look in my face while I snuff the saddle of evening talk honestly no one else hears you and I stay only a minute longer do I contradict myself very well then I contradict myself I am large I contain multitudes I concentrate toward them that are nigh I wait on the door slab who has done his day's work who will soonest be through his supper who wishes to walk with me will you speak before I am gone will you prove already too late fifty two the spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me he complains of my gab and my loitering I too am not a bit tamed I too am untranslatable I sound my barbaric yelp over the roofs of the world the last scud of day holds back for me flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadowed wilds it coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk I depart as air I shake my white locks at the runaway sun I effuse my flesh in eddies and drifted in lacy jags I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love if you want me again look for me under your boot soles you will hardly know who I am or what I mean but I shall be good health to you nevertheless and filter and fiber your blood failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged missing me one place search another I stop somewhere waiting for you end of fifty-two end of song of myself end of book three today's reading by Kara Schallenberg www.kray.org the life of their bodies meaning and being curious here behold my resurrection after slumber the revolving cycles in their wide sweep having brought me again amorous, mature all beautiful to me all wondrous my limbs and the quivering fire that ever plays through them for reasons most wondrous existing I peer and penetrate still content with the present content with the past by my side or back of me Eve following or in front and I following her just the same from pent up aching rivers from pent up aching rivers from that of myself without which I were nothing from what I am determined to make illustrious even if I stand soul among men from my own voice resonant singing the phallus singing the song of procreation singing the need of superb children and therein superb grown people singing the muscular urge and the blending singing the bedfellows song oh resistless yearning oh for any and each the body correlative attracting oh for you whoever you are your correlative body oh it more than all else you delighting from the hungry gnaw that eats me night and day from native moments from bashful pains singing them seeking something yet unfound though I have diligently sought it many a long year singing the true song of the soul fitful at random renaissance with grossest nature or among animals of that of them and what goes with them my poems informing of the smell of apples and lemons of the pairing of birds of the wet of woods of the lapping of waves of the mad pushes of waves upon the land I them chanting the overture lightly sounding the strain anticipating the welcome nearness the sight of the perfect body the swimmer swimming naked in the bath or motionless on his back lying and floating the female form approaching I pensive love flesh tremulous aching the divine list for myself or you or for anyone making the face the limbs the index from head to foot and what it arouses the mystic deliria the madness amorous the utter abandonment hark close and still what I now whisper to you I love you oh you entirely possess me oh that you and I escape from the rest and go utterly off free and lawless two hawks in the air two fishes swimming in the sea not more lawless than we the furious storm through me careering I passionately trembling the oath of the inseparable nest of two together of the woman that loves me and whom I love more than my life that oath swearing oh I willingly stake all for you oh let me be lost if it must be so oh you and I what is it to us what the rest do or think what is all else to us only that we enjoy each other and exhaust each other if it must be so from the master the pilot I yield the vessel to the general commanding me commanding all from him permission taking from time the program hastening I have loitered too long as it is from sex from the warp and from the wolf from privacy from frequent repinings alone from plenty of persons near and yet the right person not near from the soft sliding of hands over me and thrusting of fingers through my hair and beard from the long sustained kiss upon the mouth or bosom from the close pressure that makes me or any man drunk fainting with excess from what the divine husband knows from the work of fatherhood from exultation victory and relief from the bedfellows embrace in the night from the act poems of eyes, hands, hips and bosoms the cling of the trembling arm from the bending curve and the clinch from side by side the pliant coverlet off-throwing from the one so unwilling to have me leave and me just as unwilling to leave yet a moment oh tender waiter and I return from the hour of shining stars and dropping dues from the night a moment flitting out celebrate, you act divine and you children prepared for and you stalwart loins I sing the body electric one I sing the body electric the armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them they will not let me off till I go with them respond to them and discorrupt them and charge them full with the charge of the soul was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves and if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead and if the body does not do fully as much as the soul and if the body were not the soul what is the soul two of the body of man or woman box account the body itself box account that of the male is perfect and that of the female is perfect the expression of the face box account but the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face it is in his limbs and joints also it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists it is in his walk the carriage of his neck the flex of his waist and knees dress does not hide him the strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broad cloth to see him pass conveys as much as the best poem perhaps more you linger to see his back and the back of his neck and shoulder side the sprawl and fullness of babes the bosoms and heads of women the folds of their dress their style as we pass in the street the contour of their shape downwards the swimmer naked in the swimming bath seen as he swims through the transparent green shine or lies with his face up and rolls silently to and from the heave of the water the bending forward and backward of rowers in rowboats the horseman in his saddle girls, mothers housekeepers in all their performances the group of laborers seated at noontime with their dinner kettles and their wives waiting the female soothing a child the farmer's daughter in the garden or cowyard the young fellow hoeing corn the sleigh driver driving his six horses through the crowd the wrestle of wrestlers two apprentice boys quite grown lusty, good-natured native-born out on the vacant lot at sundown after work the coats and caps thrown down the embrace of love and resistance the upper hold and under hold crumpled over and blinding the eyes the march of firemen in their own costumes the play of masculine muscle through clean-setting trousers and waist straps the slow return from the fire the pause when the bell strikes suddenly again and the listening on the alert the natural, perfect, varied attitudes the bent head the curved neck the counting such like I love I loosen myself pass freely am at the mother's breast with the little child swim with the swimmers wrestle with wrestlers march in line with the firemen and pause listen count three I knew a man the fathers of sons and in them the fathers of sons this man was a wonderful vigor calmness beauty of person the shape of his head the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes the richness and breadth of his manners these I used to go and visit him to see his wise also he was six feet tall he was over eighty years old his sons were massive clean, bearded tan faced handsome they and his daughters loved him all who saw him loved him they did not love him by allowance they loved him with personal love he drank water only the blood showed like scarlet through the clear brown skin of his face he was a frequent gunner and fisher he sailed his boat himself he had a fine one presented to him by a ship-joiner he had fouling pieces presented to him by men that loved him when he went with his five sons and many grandsons to hunt or fish you would pick him out as the most beautiful of the gang you would wish long and long to be with him you would wish to sit by him in the boat that you and he might touch each other for I have perceived that to be with those I like is enough to stop in company with the rest at evening is enough to be surrounded by beautiful curious breathing laughing flesh enough to pass among them or touch any one or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment what is this then I do not ask any more delight I swim in it as in a sea there is something in staying close to men and women and looking on them and in the contact and odor of them that pleases the soul well all things please the soul but these please the soul well five this is the female form a divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot it attracts with fierce undeniable attraction I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor all falls aside but myself and it books, art, religion time the visible and solid earth and what was expected of heaven or feared of hell are now consumed mad filaments ungovernable shoots play out of it the response likewise ungovernable hair, bosom, hips bend of legs negligent falling hands all diffused mine too diffused ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb love flash swelling and deliciously aching limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous quivering jelly of love white blow and delirious nice bright groom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn undulating into the willing and yielding day lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet fleshed day this the nucleus after the child is born of woman man is born of woman this the bath of birth this the merge of small and large and the outlet again be not ashamed women your privilege encloses the rest and is the exit of the rest you are the gates of the body and you are the gates of the soul the female contains all qualities and tempers them she is in her place and moves with perfect balance she is all things duly veiled she is both passive and active she is to conceive daughters as well as sons and sons as well as daughters as I see my soul reflected in nature as I see through a mist one with inexpressible completeness sanity beauty see the bent head and arms folded over the breast the female I see six the male is not less the soul nor more he too is in his place he too is all qualities he is action and power the flush of the known universe is in him scorn becomes him well and appetite and defiance become him well the wildest largest passions bliss that is utmost sorrow that is utmost become him well pride is for him the full spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul knowledge becomes him he likes it always he brings everything to the test of himself whatever the survey whatever the sea and the sail is soundings at last only here where else does he strike soundings except here the man's body is sacred and the woman's body is sacred no matter who it is it is sacred is it the meanest one in the laborer's gang is it one of the dull faced immigrants just landed on the wharf each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well off just as much as you each has his or her place in the procession all is a procession the universe is a procession with measured and perfect motion do you know so much yourself that you call the meanest ignorant do you suppose you have a right to a good sight and he or she has no right do you think matter has cohere together from its diffuse float and the soil is on the surface and water runs and vegetation sprouts for you only and not for him and her seven a man's body at auction for before the war I often go to the slave mart and watch the sail I help the auctioneer the slavin does not have know his business gentlemen look on this wonder whatever the bids of the bidders they cannot be high enough for it for it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years without one animal or plant for it the revolving cycles truly and steadily rolled in this head the all baffling brain in it and below it the makings of heroes examine these limbs red black or white they are cunning in tendon and nerve they shall be stripped that you may see them exquisite senses life lit eyes pluck volition flakes of breast muscle pliant backbone and neck flesh not flabby good-sized arms and legs and wonders within their yet within their runs blood the same old blood the same red running blood their swells and jets a heart they're all passions desires reachings aspirations do you think they are not there expressed in parlours and lecture rooms this is not only one man this is the father of those who shall be fathers in their turns in him the start of populous states and rich republics of him countless immortal lives with countless embodiments and enjoyments how do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring through the centuries who might you find you have come from yourself if you could trace back through the centuries eight a woman's body at auction she too is not only herself she is the teeming mother of mothers she is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers have you ever loved the body of a woman have you ever loved the body of a man do you not see that these are exactly the same to all in all nations and times all over the earth if anything is sacred the human body is sacred and the glory and sweet of a man is the token of manhood untainted and in man or woman a clean firm fibred body is more beautiful than the most beautiful face have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body or the fool that corrupted her own live body for they do not conceal themselves and cannot conceal themselves nine oh my body I dare not desert the likes of you women nor the likes of the parts of you I believe the likes of you are to stand or fall with the likes of the soul and that they are the soul I believe the likes of you shall stand or fall with my poems and that they are my poems man's woman's child's youth's fathers young man's young woman's poems head neck hair ears drop and timpan of the ears eyes eye fringes iris of the eye eyebrows and the waking or sleeping of the lids mouth tongue teeth roof of the mouth jaws and the jaw hinges nose nostrils of the nose and the partition cheeks temples forehead chin throat back of the neck neck slew side round of the chest upper arm armpit elbow socket arm sinews arm bones wrist and wrist joints hand, palm, knuckles thumb, forefinger finger joints fingernails broad breast front curling hair of the breast breast bone side ribs, belly backbone joints of the backbone hips hip sockets, hip strength inward and outward round man balls man root strong set of thighs well carrying the trunk above leg fibers knee, knee pan, upper leg under leg ankles, instep football, toes toe joints, the heel all attitudes all the shapeliness all the belongings of my or your body or of anyone's body male or female the lung sponges the stomach sac the bowels, sweet and clean the brain in its folds inside the skull frame sympathies heart valves palate valves sexuality, maternity womanhood and all that is a woman and the man that comes from woman the womb the teats nipples, breast milk tears, laughter, weeping love looks love perturbations and risings the voice articulation, language whispering shouting aloud food, drink pulse, digestion sweat, sleep walking, swimming poise on the hips leaping reclining embracing arm curving and tightening the continual changes of the flex of the mouth and around the eyes the skin the sunburnt shade freckles, hair the curious sympathy one feels when feeling with the hand the naked meat of the body the circling rivers, the breath and breathing it in and out the beauty of the waist and thence of the hips and thence downward toward the knees the thin red jellies within you or within me the bones and the marrow in the bones the exquisite realization of health oh, I say these are not the parts and poems of the body only, but of the soul oh, I say now these are the soul a woman waits for me a woman waits for me she contains all nothing is lacking yet all were lacking if sex were lacking or if the moisture of the right man were lacking sex contains all bodies, souls meanings, proofs purities, delicacies results allegations, songs commands health, pride the maternal mystery the seminal milk all hopes, benefactions, bestowals all the passions loves, beauties delights of the earth all the governments judges, gods followed persons of the earth these are contained in sex as parts of itself and justifications of itself without shame the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sex without shame the woman I like knows and avows hers now I will dismiss myself from impassive women I will go stay with her who waits for me and with those women that are warm and sufficient for me I see that they understand me and do not deny me I see that they are worthy of me I will be the robust husband of those women they are not one jot less than I am they are tanned in the face by shining suns and blowing winds their flesh has the old divine suppleness and strength they know how to swim row ride wrestle retreat advance resist defend themselves they are ultimate in their own right they are calm clear well possessed of themselves I draw you close to me you women I cannot let you go I would do you good for you and you are for me not only for our own sake but for others' sakes enveloped in you sleep greater heroes and bards they refuse to awake at the touch of any man but me it is I you women I make my way I am stern acrid large it is necessary for you I pour the stuff to start sons and daughters fit for these states I press with slow rude muscle I brace myself effectually I listen to no entreaties I dare not withdraw till I deposit what has so long accumulated within me through you I drain the pent up rivers of myself in you I wrap a thousand onward years on you I graft the grafts of the best beloved of me and America the drops I distill upon you shall grow fierce and athletic girls new artists, musicians and singers the babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn I shall demand perfect men out of my love spendings I shall expect them to interpenetrate with others as I and you interpenetrate now I shall count on the fruits of the gushing showers of them as I count on the fruits of the gushing showers I give now I shall look for loving crops from the birth life death, immortality I plant so lovingly now spontaneous me spontaneous me nature the loving day the mounting sun the friend I am happy with the arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder the hillside whitened with blossoms of the mountain ash the same late in autumn the hues of red, yellow drab, purple and light and dark green the rich coverlet of the grass animals and birds the private untrimmed bank the primitive apples the pebble stones beautiful dripping fragments the negligent list of one after another as I happen to call them to me or think of them the real poems what we call poems being merely pictures the poems of the privacy of the night and of men like me this poem drooping shy and unseen that I always carry and that all men carry no once for all avowed on purpose wherever our men like me are our lusty lurking masculine poems love thoughts love juice love odor love yielding love climbers and the climbing sap arms and hands of love lips of love phallic thumb of love breasts of love bellies pressed and glued together with love earth of chased love life that is only life after love the body of my love the body of the woman I love the body of the man the body of the earth soft four noon airs that blow from the south west the hairy wild bee that murmurs and hankers up and down that grips the full grown lady flower curves upon her with amorous firm legs takes his will of her and holds himself tremulous until he is satisfied the wet of woods through the early hours two sleepers at night lying close together as they sleep one with an arm slanting down across and below the waist of the other the smell of apples aromas from crushed sage plant mint birch bark the boys longings the glow and pressure as he confides to me what he was dreaming the dead leaf whirling its spiral whirl and falling still and content to the ground the no formed stings that sights, people objects sting me with the hubbed sting of myself stinging me as much as it ever can anyone the sensitive orbic underlapped brothers that only privileged feelers may be intimate where they are the curious romer the hand roaming all over the body the bashful withdrawing of flesh where the fingers soothingly pause and edge themselves the limpid liquid within the young man the vexed corrosion so and so painful the torment the irritable tide that will not be at rest the like of the same I feel the like of the same in others the young man that flushes and flushes and the young woman that flushes and flushes the young man that wakes deep at night the hot hand seeking to repress what would master him the mystic amorous night the strange half welcome pangs, visions sweats the pulse pounding through palms and trembling and circling fingers the young man all colored red, ashamed, angry the sauce upon me of my lover the sea as I lie willing and naked the merriment of the twin babes that crawl over the grass in the sun the mother never turning her vigilant eyes from them the walnut trunk the walnut husks and the ripening or ripened long round walnuts the continents of vegetables birds, animals the consequent meanness of me should I skulk or find myself indecent while birds and animals never once skulk or find themselves indecent the great chastity of paternity to match the great chastity of maternity the oath of procreation I have sworn my adamic and fresh daughters the greed that eats me day and night with hungry gnaw till I saturate what shall produce boys to fill my place when I am through the wholesome relief repose content and this bunch plucked at random from myself it has done its work I toss it carelessly to fall where it may one hour to madness and joy one hour to madness and joy oh furious oh confine me not what is this that frees me so in storms what do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean oh to drink the mystic deliria deeper than any other man oh savage and tender aching I bequeath them to you my children I tell them to you for reasons oh bridegroom and bride oh to be yielded to you whoever you are oh to be yielded to me in defiance of the world oh to return to paradise oh bashful and feminine oh to draw you to me to plant on you for the first time the lips of a determined man oh the puzzle the thrice-tide knot the deep and dark pool all untied and illumined oh to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last to be absolved from previous ties and conventions I from mine and you from yours to find a new unthought-of nonchalance with the best of nature to have the gag removed from one's mouth to have the feeling today or any day I am sufficient as I am something unproved something in a trance to escape utterly from others anchors and holds to drive free to love free to dash reckless and dangerous to court destruction with taunts with invitations to ascend to leap to the heavens of the love indicated to me to rise thither with my inebriate soul at last, if it must be so to feed the remainder of life with one hour of fullness and freedom with one brief hour of madness and joy out of the rolling ocean the crowd out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me whispering I love you before long I die I have traveled a long way merely to look on you to touch you for I could not die till I once looked on you for I feared I might afterward lose you now we have met we have looked we are safe return in peace to the ocean my love I too am part of that ocean my love we are not so much separated behold the great rondur the cohesion of all how perfect but as for me for you the irresistible sea is to separate us as for an hour carrying us diverse yet cannot carry us diverse forever be not impatient a little space know you I salute the air the ocean and the land yet sundown for your dear sake my love ages and ages returning at intervals ages and ages returning at intervals undistroyed wandering immortal lusty phallic with the potent original loins perfectly sweet I, Chenter of Adamic Songs through the new garden the west these calling deliriate thus prelude what is generated offering these offering myself bathing myself bathing my songs in sex offspring of my loins we too how long we were fooled we too how long we were fooled now transmuted we swiftly escape we are in nature long have we been absent but now we return we become plants trunks, foliage roots, bark we are bedded in the ground we are rocks we are oaks we grow in the openings side by side we browse we are too among the wild herds spontaneous as any we are two fishes swimming in the sea together we are what locust blossoms are we drop scent around lanes, mornings and evenings we are also the coarse smut of beasts vegetables, minerals we are two predatory hawks we soar above and look down we are two resplendent suns we it is who balance ourselves orbic and stellar we are as two comets we prowl fanged and forefooted in the woods we spring on prey we are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead we are seas mingling we are two of those cheerful waves rolling over each other and interwetting each other we are what the atmosphere is transparent receptive pervious impervious we are snow, rain cold darkness we are each product and influence of the globe we have circled and circled till we have arrived home again we too we have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy oh hymen oh hymeny oh hymen oh hymeny why do you tantalize me thus oh why sting me for a swift moment only why can you not continue oh why do you now cease is it because if you continued beyond the swift moment soon certainly kill me I am he that aches with love I am he that aches with amorous love does the earth gravitate does not all matter aching attract all matter so the body of me to all I meet or know native moments native moments when you come upon me I hear now give me now libidinous joys only give me the drench of my passions give me life course and rank today I go consort with nature's darlings tonight too I am for those who believe in loose delights I share the midnight orgies of young men I dance with the dancers and drink with the drinkers the echoes ring with our indecent calls I pick out some low person for my dearest friend he shall be lawless rude, illiterate he shall be one condemned by others for deeds done I will play a part no longer why should I exile myself from my companions oh you shunned persons I at least do not shun you I come forthwith in your midst I will be your poet I will be more to you than to any of the rest once I passed through a populous city once I passed through a populous city imprinting my brain for future use with its shows architecture, customs, traditions yet now of all that city I remember only a woman I casually met there who detained me for love of me day by day and night by night we were together all else has long been forgotten by me I remember I say only that woman who passionately clung to me again we wander we love we separate again she holds me by the hand I must not go I see her close beside me with silent lips sad and tremulous I heard you solemn sweet pipes of the organ I heard you solemn sweet pipes of the organ as last Sunday morn I passed the church winds of autumn as I walked the woods at dusk I heard your long stretched size up above so mournful I heard the perfect Italian tenor singing at the opera I heard the soprano in the midst of the quartet singing heart of my love you too I heard murmuring low through one of the wrists around my head heard the pulse of you when all was still ringing little bells last night under my ear facing west from California's shores facing west from California's shores inquiring tireless seeking what is yet unfound I a child very old over waves towards the house of maternity the land of migrations look afar look off the shores of my western sea the circle almost circled for starting westward from Hindustan from the veils of Kashmir from Asia from the north from the god the sage and the hero from the south from the flowery peninsulas and the spice islands long having wandered since round the earth having wandered now I face home again very pleased and joyous but where is what I started for so long ago and why is it yet unfound as Adam early in the morning as Adam early in the morning walking forth from the bower refreshed with sleep behold me where I pass hear my voice approach me touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass be not afraid of my body end of book four recorded on October 22nd 2005 in Oceanside, California