A Pantoum for Whitman
And I heard a whisper saying: live, live
in the mountains reading Whitman.
So I set out into a moon-filled night,
to love, stepping deep through snowdrifts.
In the mountains reading Whitman,
wildly studying Leaves of Grass
to love, stepping deep through snowdrifts,
swirling with little change through the years.
Wildly studying leaves of grass
that sprout from the blue-white banks,
swirling with little change through the years,
feeling, somehow, that I was getting close.
That sprout from the blue-white banks,
haunting me in the way of perfect words;
feeling, somehow, that I was getting close,
I listened, as if for a remnant of him
haunting me in the way of perfect words.
So I set out into a moon-filled night.
I listened, as if for a remnant of him,
and I heard a whisper saying: live, live.
Lavorato, Mark. "A Pantoum for Whitman" Poet to Poet. Roorda, Julie and Elana Wolff, eds. Toronto: Guernica Editions, Inc., 2012. 63.
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