happy berfday walt whitman

yep, that's right, on this date in 1819, america's finest poet was born in huntington, long island, just up the road from where i had my genesis and where the young darrin kobetich was tearin' it up before moving to weatherford with his folks. see, "i sing the body electric" wasn't just the name of a weather report album.

I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment—what is this, then?
I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women, and looking on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well;
All things please the soul—but these please the soul well.