Happy Birthday, Walter Whitman
Walter (“Walt”) Whitman, perhaps America’s only guru, turned 195-years-old today.
He is unquestionably America’s most famous and most quintessential poet — who is second, I would add, only to Emily Dickenson as the most overrated.
Walter Whitman, who opened the closet but wouldn’t come out; who lived in a kind of luxurious poverty — housekeeper, male nurse, amanuensis, carriage, on the bounty of admirers, adored as Ghandi or a Dr. Schweitzer, visited by Oscar Wilde and English titles, in Camden, New Jersey: Two-hundred pound of hype, nature-mystic who designed his tomb solid as an Egyptian pyramid, American to the soles of his boots, outspoken as Christ or Madame Blavatsky, Messiah, Muse of the Modern …
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Perhaps Wilde’s visit was extra special … http://the-toast.net/2013/09/17/oscar-wilde-and-walt-whitman-did-it/
Melville and Hawthorne, too?
Whatever gets through the night. Lennon and Elton
Leave no stone unturned, I guess.
Et tu, Herman? Nathaniel?
No stone, as you say.
Thank you for dropping by.