Walt Whitman’s Scorecard

by Jonathan Eig


I SING the Body injected:
The fans embrace me with their massive arms, and I embrace them with mine, bigger;
They will not stop till I am convicted, denying everything,
And destroy their innocence, and shake them with the hormonal growth of the Soul.

Was it doubted that those who inject their own bodies enlarged themselves;
And that those who defile the game now defile the game forever?
And if the body does not grow as much as the Soul?
And if the body were not so large as the Soul, what dosage is required?


Posted 4/17/09

Published in Scandals, Songs and Parodies | Link to this poem | No Comments

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