Thursday, April 08, 2010

with me far away

Who was to know what should come home to me?
Who knows but I am enjoying this?
Who knows but I am as good as looking at you now, for all you cannot see me?

I'm in my favourite place, which is actually no place, it's a place between places and it's always on the move.
I'm with a comrade who is certainly the most earnest, he in antique military garb heading out of the wind to re-load his camera.

So now I'm here alone in the greatness, in the wind, in the sound of ice and water turning into each other, and all I can think of is this, and I can't get the order, and I can't get the words, but what I have is this boat in this no-place and Walt Whitman in the sunset.

The similitudes of the past, and those of the future;
The glories strung like beads on my smallest sights and hearings--on the walk in the street, and the passage over the river;
The current rushing so swiftly, and swimming with me far away;
The others that are to follow me, the ties between me and them;
The certainty of others--the life, love, sight, hearing of others.

Walt Whitman
86. Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
Leaves of Grass

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