FINAL PROJECT: Whitman Blackout Poetry

Walt was an active metaphysical soldier in the Civil War.  But why was he so obsessed with America and the unity of the nation?  If only he could see what it has now become.  Has the freedom he seemed to emotionally fight for, become nothing more than our meager attempt to separate ourselves from one another?  Seems quite paradoxical to say the least, that one’s individual liberation should cause a rift between himself and all of mankind.  But I suppose one cannot view the individual pursuit of intellectual power as a means of societal degradation.  Society is as society does, and Walt is the spawn of positive societal unification.  Perhaps in this sense, Lincoln quite literally becomes Whitman’s father or at least a “father-like” figure not only to Whitman, but to all of embryonic America as well.  Or maybe that’s just me making a ridiculous reach for meaning where there is none.  If this project has taught me one thing, it is that you cannot force poetry or creativity, and you cannot force insight or an innate acceptance of the inadequate fallen state of man.  By picking out the simplistic and often divergent themes found within the nooks and crannies of his journal entries, I feel as though I have captured some unique yet equally monumental characteristics that are crucial when attempting to define the essence of Walt.

This blackout poem was created from the Specimen Day’s entry titled “The Stupor Passes -- Something Else Begins.”  

the night

Lincoln 

endured a crucifixion

leader

of

defiance.  magnificent

humiliation

and

the days of war,

the day of Lincoln’s death.

Little was said

silently to each other.

Talking about the importance of Lincoln feels like beating the crap out of a dead horse, but Lincoln was incredibly influential in Whitman’s life.  What I tried to highlight in this section reminds me slightly of what Walt talks about in “When Lilac’s Last...” because I’m highlighting both the beautiful and ugly aspects of war and death.  The Lilac’s poem is clearly a poem of mourning and the paradoxical intricacies of loss, and in this Specimen Days entry I find that Walt is saying Lincoln’s “crucifixion” can be seen as a catalyst for ending the days of war.  Lincoln attempted to unite the nation in his living years, but Whitman is pointing out that it’s quite possible for the significant impact of his death to ignite the beginning of the country’s subliminal 

desire to merge.

This blackout poem was created from the Specimen Day’s entry titled, “A Cavalry Camp.”

watching

through

my window     dismounted; freed

with drooping heads and wet sides;

I see

strong

men

on the hill

dripping, steaming,

half quench’d.

perhaps

to-day

I sit long in my window and look on--

connected without much

words.

This one could not have turned out any better.  As soon as I finished this one I couldn’t help but think of the 29th bather and the way he or she (as Whitman or the reader or whoever) is looking out the window, longing to be free and in a sense sexually emancipated.  Although the entry is originally about his observations of the men at work in the camp, I found a lot of imagery regarding water and wetness which has possible sexual connotations.  Fitting, seeing as Walt is often driven by the sensual aspect of both poetry and ultimately life itself.  Walt Whitman in my humble opinion encompasses the 29th bather, always striving to breech the walls of societal and mental captivation.

This blackout poem was created from the Specimen Day’s entry titled, “Some Sad Cases Yet.”

a strong man

brought low as I have ever seen

pulse pounding

in a partial sleep,     sleep

feels

silent,

the 

beautiful

hot parade of 

yesterday.    the lives of men

are quite full

of despair

hope left them    

in a dying

condition

This entry is all about injured and dying soldiers, but I wanted to draw a perhaps more universal theme from it.  In my blackout poem I chose to highlight the finality of death in correlation with the loss of hope.  This entry (similar to the first one) reminds me somewhat of “When Lilacs Last...” because there is a certain cosmic quality to it representative of the “kosmic” Walt.  Death may not simply refer to the physical act of passing, but rather may refer to an internal death or loss of blissful reverie.  War is haunting for those who see it and those who are physically in it, but for Whitman the concept of war itself is indicative of the seemingly despairing state of man when he finds himself approaching the end.

Now, Some Feedback:

Don’t want to sound like a suck up or anything, but I can’t think of anything I found to be problematic in this class.  The only thing that sucked was that it was only one day a week.  I’m probably the only one who would complain about something like that, and this is probably because I’m a nerd.  But this class is the only one that I genuinely enjoyed going to.  I’ve read Leaves of Grass before, but I’d be lying if I said I initially understood any of it.  Because of your class I will never look at much of life in the same way I did before, and it may be because I’m still young and incredibly impressionable, but I also think it’s because you taught us how to embrace and accept not only a poem but a poet into our lives as well.  I remember the very first day of class you said reading Whitman was like an acid trip only ten times better, and I never thought I’d say this but I couldn’t agree more.  So I guess I’d like to thank you for showing me the monumental world of Walt, and thank you for teaching me how to mentally embrace the intimate quality of true poetry.  You can bet on seeing me in one of your classes when I return from the land of hockey and bacon, that I guess is actually ham.

-Meghan

Directing the Westward Wind

I dare someone to undermine the work of the Coen brothers.  If Whitman is an autodidactic god, then the Coen brothers are his autodidactic minions whose Americanized movies mimic the self-subsistent qualities of an “All-American” emblem.   While Walt is undoubtedly the pioneer of Western American literature, the Coen brothers seem to take on the responsibility of pioneering the field of Western American movies (seeing as culturally speaking, new-age America is far more concerned with visible intellectual advancements, rather than monochromatic emotionally charged pieces of paper).  Although some would argue that the brothers focus simply on murder cases with dramatic twists that take place in America, Whitman himself would argue that “The United States themselves are essentially the greatest poem” and therefore focusing on certain trials and tribulations that occur within the states, is poetry in itself.  In a lot of ways the Coen’s highlight certain thematic structural qualities found in some of Whitman’s poems.  By emphasizing (as you have already mentioned in your blog) the Lebowski Loafer as well as the Insignificant Man, the Brady Bunch of Arizona and the Woman Warrior pregnant with the capitulating heroes and heroines of tomorrows America, the brothers are emphasizing the indicative nature of the American melting pot.

However, I find it important to note that their styles differ significantly, and this may be simply due to each writer’s choice of expression.  It is difficult to adequately compare movies and literature, because in my opinion there is something slightly more timeless in a poetic work of art.  Yet Whitman would undoubtedly be proud of the fact that the Coen brothers are attempting to carry on the fundamental legacy of Western American culture, and if any director/producer would be capable of capturing the essence of Walt on the big screen, it would surely be these guys.

A Kosmic Grain of Sand: Levine v. Walt

I find it natural that a man with any kind of philosophical tendencies should contemplate the finality of death.  I think what can be most fascinating about poetry in general, is its ability to show the stylistic differences poets have when attempting to broach the same subject.  So when considering the possible thematic similarities of “Song of Myself” and “My Grave” one must note the incredible difference in tone that leads to each poet’s ultimately contrasting perception of mortality.  To put it simply, Levine strikes me as the no bullshit kind of poet, who essentially tells it like it is but in a metaphorical and aesthetically pleasing way.  Based on the straightforward and somewhat hopeless tone present in both of his poems, the reader can assume that death ultimately conquers the speaker, whereas in any of Walt’s poems that deal with the unknown he presents for the reader a more hopeful and “kosmic” point of view.

Whitman writes with a subtle hint of acceptance with whatever subject he is addressing, and when analyzing in particular “My Grave” I get a feeling of insignificance in regards to my life and its worth, rather than that connected feeling Walt often attempts to portray.  I guess to sum it up so as not to take up too much of your time, both poets adequately express their fears and longings, moral complications and egotistical issues, and it is truly difficult to say whether or not Levine’s existential defeats are as emotionally intoxicating as Whitman’s kosmic victories, and vice versa.