Loafe and Laze, Song of myself
Lately I’ve been revisiting Song of Myself by the poet Walt Whitman. On one hand it’s hard to believe he composed this in the 1890s (circa) and on the other the language and spellings are archaic. Then there is the very idea: loafing, a lazy summer day spent inspecting a blade of grass, smelling fresh-mown hay, no to-do list or worry about the upcoming presidential election, no social media or 24-hour news cycle. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. The summer is half over, which sends me into a frenzy. I need to grill out, go to a concert in the park, hop on my bike, camp out, eat more ice cream!!! Whitman could care less about any of this. Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,) You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books...