| ***BIO*** Julie Bolt currently teaches writing and literature at Bronx Community College. Recent publications have been featured in The Fifth Street Review, Slow Trains Literary Magazine, The Sidewalk's End, Literary Visions, Radical Teacher, and Apollo's Lyre, among others. After many years in California, Arizona, and New Mexico, she has returned to New York City with a husband, son, and two dogs in tow. |
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| Under My Bootsoles |
| by Julie 'the' Bolt |
| Walt Whitman, we are both so lusty!
I feel you throbbing through Manhattan crowds We pass on the Pacific Coast Highway Outside Tucson, you find me behind a Saguaro We roll clumsy and eager on hot eternal sand Whitman, your breath, must, and whiskers are not the parts and poems of the body only Whitman, you are my moist mouth forever Flesh! Grunting and messy Why did you embrace your lover in photos, but hide him in poems? I don’t think you ever made love to a woman But your love for a man was large and languid Look Whitman! Vistas! Stratas! Everything! Who cares what or when we are, or will never be Linger Whitman; we can catalogue the world I hear! The rhythm of oceans, of bodies, The love songs and death calls of birds I see! The stars in perfect mystic silence Linger long, while I swim through every poem |
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| Nov. 2005 |
| 53 |