Walt Whitman from a Song of Myself
I thought I was doing a noble thing once my Grandmother was put into the nursing home. She was still a little "crazy" from all the toxins left in her bloodstream while her kidneys failed, all better now, but still some whackyness around. I thought I would read her poetry since she loved to read but was not yet sane enough to use her motor skills
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Where, my dear, is all this wit coming from... I adore it! I'm so glad to see you writing again, especially for someone with raw talent... you've got the goods my friend...
by the way, yes, that poem "Piggyfucker Cheerleader" or whatever, definitely gave me an interesting look at what your creative writing classes must have been like...that kid had some serious issues, i mean, props for getting it on paper - but in the process of cleansing himself of his eternal torment, he traumatizes others - and that's just fucking selfish, lol.
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