Myself means me, not you too.

Did you read Whitman and still feel you are just one of millions of stand alone lifeforms? Or perhaps his poetry inspired you to feel the lifehumm from the universe coursing through your veins.
So I finished my initial reading of Song of Myself and headed to the Y to pick up my kid. Along the way, I contemplate my relationship with the trees on Harrison Blvd. Walt broadcasts I am the tree, as he is, too. To me, this is actually a sensible argument, from the standpoint of manure, ecosystems, and, to quote The Lion King, "The Circle of Life". My ability to accept and comprehend this idea is confined to this Earth, however. Where Walt says his argument stands as true on the moons of Jupiter and beyond, my spaceship is pretty much stuck in Boise.

Now, as I continue my afternoon errand, I stop to pick up my son at the Y. I make a conscious decision, as an exercise and tribute to Mr. Whitman, to try and feel what my son feels as I ask him about his day. Boom! Indeed! There is an interconnection among us all! Yes, his atoms are my atoms, etc. This unexpected transcendental experience results in a spontaneous grin and chuckle. At this, my son's expression is quizzical as he asks me "what's up?" Obviously, he is not a student of Whitman's work.

Ah, but this is my son -- truly my flesh and blood. I am so familar with him. I love him unconditionally. I should make a habit of connecting with him on this level. It brings me such joy. I determine that I owe the experience to biology and fatherhood, of course, and not to confirmation of the existence of Walt's universe. I just couldn't get the same rise with the trees on Harrison, nor their squirrels.

To my knowledge, Walt did not procreate. No children. This seems to me an enormous contradiction, him being large and containing multitudes notwithstanding.

Although I am not a subscriber to Mr. Whitman's philosophy, I rather did enjoy reading his work; Much like I enjoy great music I am hearing for the first time.

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

I have read through "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry", jotting some notes in the margin, then came immediately to this post upon completion of the reading. My intention is to create a record of my thoughts prior to any influence from others with more experience in such matters.

As the poem opens, Walt seems to be expressing a fascination with the fact that he is but one of millions of humans, past and present. Instead of his thoughts making him feel small and insignificant, he somehow feels connected and purposeful. As the poem progresses, Walt describes the sheer enormity of human activity, as well as the boundless features of his (and our) environment.

Next, Walt sets out to convince the reader, no matter how distant in time or space, that a connection exists with him. He does this by giving general descriptions of personal thoughts we all have, yet we rarely discuss in public. In a sense, he is employing the use of a password. Immediately following his establishing the connection between himself and the reader, he seems to give a confession of sorts, that he does not always live the life he would like to. I interpret from his passage that he is gay, but not openly. This admission seems out of place and unnecessary until the reader progresses to the next passage, in which Walt states, "Closer yet I approach you". This made me think that he was telling me something intimate in order to further build this cosmic relationship he has with me.

By the way, I refer to the author as "Walt", as opposed to Mr. Whitman. I feel comfortable with this because Walt and I are buddies.

I will now follow-up by reading some more professional analyses and other evaluations of this piece of work. I expect to be schooled on the matter. I do not profess to have any gift or education in the area of literary analysis, but perhaps this class can change that.

Okay, I am back after reading Spark Notes. I won't spoil it for you, in case you want to do your own research. Let me say that I am not as intimate with Walt as I may have thought, but I still believe that the two of us are chummy enough that I can still call him "Walt".

There were a couple of significant points that, although I did take note of them in my initial reading, I failed to realize their significance. This was due to my own selfishness. I was more entertained by what Walt thought of me than I was by Walt's own curiosities.

Anyway, I feel pretty good about my initial stab at analysis. However, I do realize that Walt is not as cryptic or as heavy on symbolism as other authors to be studied may be.

Poem

I have never before written a poem
What is the criteria? Can I just go home?

The Boss says it's okay if it blows
That's good; My lack of talent really shows