We’re reading Walt Whitman in class this week. Students encountering him for the first time are blown away by all the words on the page until they realize that each line is a breath–some more long-winded than others. When I read Whitman, I’m on the streets of 19th century Manhattan–the horses and carriages, the opera singers, the street vendors, the sights, the smells, the sounds. His poems embrace all of life.
So, write a breathless poem–use ordinary speech, your own or something you’ve overheard, and let the lines ramble and fill with the details of your everyday life. Don’t worry about a grand vision–just take pleasure in the life you see all around you.
Post a poem as a response, and I’ll post it here.
Mattie's Pillow 