'I know I am deathless... 

I know I shall not pass like a child's carlacue cut with a burnt stick at night... 

I am integral with you . . .'

—Walt Whitman, 'Song of Myself' 

The Thread

I am part of the thread of life. 

I am connected to you, my mother, as 

I am to you, my children. 

I will not die until the thread is broken. 

I am part of your body, your psyche, your soul. 

I begin where you end.

I carry bits of your memory, as you will carry mine. 

I am a creature of your habits and nature, quirks and foibles. 

I see the world through your eyes. 

I feel the ocean waves curl around my legs as you felt. 

I look at my self and I see your self. 

I listen to my sounds and I hear your sounds. 

I think my thoughts and I think your thoughts. 

I am your son and your father. I am integral with you.

—

History

We’re readin’ up on the Civil War

in Mrs J’s history class.

She has us memorizin’ important dates

and readin’ all sorts of 

speeches by President Abraham Lincoln

which makes a man wonder

whatever happened to the English language.

What slays me 

is this ole poem sequence she lends me after class 

by a Mr Walt Whitman who was there

called 'Drum-Taps.'

I set to readin’ and thinkin’ 

on those boys and girls over in Iraq.

'It sickens me yet, this slaughter.'

(from "These Fair Days")