Walt Whitman Sang the Body Electric, I Sing

by wechslerh66

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

like a broken calliope bird
between metonymous night
& the eponymous dawn
like the organist
who plays “When Johnny Comes Marching Home”
when the leadoff hitter named Johnny bats
like the Quarrymen
at the Cavern Club
or the Star-Club
an die sündige Meile
like the heavenly warehouse
of old 45s
whose burned-out marquee reads WE SELL SOUL
like the hellbound werewolf
outside your bedroom door
who howls every night but won’t ever come in
unless you let him in

Photo courtesy of http://www.garagehangover.com/?q=taxonomy/term/1080.

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