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A Noiseless Patient Spider by Walt Whitman with two sonnets by Edwin Denby and Don Yorty

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark’d where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark’d how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form’d, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

Spider Web by Akram


I am singular and we are plural.
I see us walking on the busy street
and waiting for the bus. Each day I meet
him, Walt Whitman, whose kind face I see all
over the place. Or I am in his brain
because I think that poet isn’t dead
anymore than I live. Grass in his stead
comes through the sidewalk’s cracks. Let it remain
unnoticed as the air we breathe. New York
City is just a poet’s thought and we
are written on the page eternally
living then as well as now. Yet time’s short.
It’s important to talk and say what is.
I think of him. I am a thought of his.

Walt Whitman by Akram

The Grand Republic by Edwin Denby

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