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As the resident artist at EcoHealth, I pen verse these days inspired by the specter of future pandemics; for my dissertation at Amerika-Institut of LMU München, where I edit a weekly circular on poetry, I'm anatomizing the prosody of E. A. Robinson's sonnets—I also teach English, tutor composition, and lead a literary circle.

20160531

Small the Theme of My Chant

From the 1867 edition L. of G.

Small the theme of my Chant, yet the greatest—namely, One's-
Self—a simple, separate person. That, for the use of the
New World, I sing.
Man's physiology complete, from top to toe, I sing. Not physi-
ognomy alone, nor brain alone, is worthy for the Muse;—I
say the Form complete is worthier far. The Female equally
with the Male, I sing.
Nor cease at the theme of One's-Self. I speak the word of the
modern, the word En-Masse.
My Days I sing, and the Lands—with interstice I knew of hap-
less War.
(O friend, whoe'er you are, at last arriving hither to commence,
I feel through every leaf the pressure of your hand, which I
return.
And thus upon our journey, footing the road, and more than
once, and link'd together let us go.)

Walt Whitman


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