Sunday, November 21, 2010

Maybe "the one for" Lorine's "me" flattened his pay-check against this Walt Whitman poem:

FOR HIM I SING

For him I sing,
I raise the present on the past,
(As some perennial tree out of its roots, the present on the past,)
With time and space I him dilate and fuse the immortal laws,
To make himself by them the law unto himself.

No comments:

Post a Comment