jamelah
i voted
If I should need to name, O Western World, your powerfulest scene and show,
Twould not be you, Niagara – nor you, ye limitless prairies – nor your huge rifts of canyons, Colorado,
Nor you, Yosemite – nor Yellowstone, with all its spasmic geyserloops ascending to the skies, appearing and disappearing,
Nor Oregon’s white cones – nor Huron’s belt of mighty lakes – nor Mississippi’s stream:
This seething hemisphere’s humanity, as now, I’d name – the still small voice vibrating -America’s choosing day…
Spasmic geyserloops. You have to love Walt Whitman, the gay uncle of American poetry. The man never said anything in five words that he could say in thirty. But this was one of the few times Uncle Walt was thinking small. That “still small voice” he mentioned isn’t limited just to America’s choosing day. It’s out there vibrating in France and Turkey and Canada and Ireland and Mexico and Italy and all the nations that have choosing days. Every free election held under any flag in any nation on the globe is worth its weight in spasmic geyserloops. Every vote is its own mini-geyserloop.
I voted. Did you?
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