final project

Project Proposal:

Originally, my project entailed the evaluation of critical reviews of Leaves of Grass and how they matched up to current reviews and academic appreciation of Walt Whitman’s life work.  While reviewing some of the reviews, many were harsh and quick to deject the material as obscene, rubbish and not worth reading nor considering. However, after looking over and meditating over his work, as well as acknowledging the magnitude of influence LoG has had on American culture, we know better. There was no way illustrate this dichotomy, and really I wanted to provide some artistic expression of what I learned and assimilated into my college learning and appreciation of literature. (I’m sorry, this is sounding like an essay.)

I wanted to create a commentary of what I thought of Leaves of Grass by writing a creative piece that reflected upon Whitman’s work, and what I learned from it. I wanted to include some of the various motifs and themes, while modernizing some of his ideas into a language that we could all understand readily (because we all know Walt loved the sound of his work.) More so than anything, I wanted to twist the poem a little to cast a reflection of what America is dealing with now and how it relates to some of the issues Whitman was trying to comment upon. I decided to reference A Song for Occupations.

Occupy

there is a smile that you see but cannot feel, that you pay for

and accept with my services. you look down and in your gifted vehicles

demand for my offers, and I offer with my smile, which is caked thick

there is willingness and there is reluctance and I give you both

the thoughts you have of what you know and what you’ve heard

are amazing to most, but not to me. they land upon me like pox of pollen

and though you spread your consciousness electronically for strangers

to acknowledge the nakedness within your metal shell, you become entranced

by the chirp of birds which flees from your Ambercrombie pockets.

and there is nothing more naked than

your privacy, which is taken and sold by those

that provide for you a means to communicate in complete isolation

I don’t want to be one with you, or anyone.

No one truly knows anyone, if they are struggling to find themselves

and from zygote to infant as you spring from the womb, and crawling

into a crooked stature, old and useless, you’ll make your claims to

having established something of a legacy. And though you’ll fight to

deconstruct cliches, you’ll become: dust in the wind, swirled into heaven

dragged across the cosmos, passed into the negative space and into the red sun.

there are equals and there are those that serve you as they rule over you,

bending you backwards until the back of your head is pressed against your heals

and they’ll stamp their coaster on your stomach and slam their drink hard in laughter

who knew running a country involved running a ranch of sheep, or stumbling through

ninety rounds of golf, while the elderly read VOID on pension checks and their unborn

children are buried with a debt they must pay, though they could never witness

your digital hancock stamped with your print on some god awful election.

you are still going to crack your jokes about the world costing twice as much, even though

tears spring up beneath your eyes, poured within your cheeks and roll down your throat, because you sold children further and further into financial slavery.

And beckoning for an answer which you might find if you bruise your knees on a cedar pew

and karate chop your nose with eyes clenched shut, or demand it from the other ninety nine beggars, who are asking the questions, you might hear them murmur a word if you tug on a robe and have faith like a man who believe solemnly that there is only an artificial God.

those caked in their liberal propaganda hold hands with gun-toting fascist and speak a word that can be said but never spelled nor heard or accepted: education.

But you thought educators were never worth paying nor admiring, they worked a job and though they drilled shreds of recycled knowledge, praying for change, you fastened to hope that they would live better through easier means, that American opportunity, would hunt them down and beg them to be found.

and even though you sold it long ago, for some comfort and a few spoken words which soothed your old man colic, you will demand it for your children though you know that, like the cake, it is a lie.

we live in a America where old fellows working at farms are illegal beings

if anything. You shower rumors of freedom and civility though you pelt them with pejoratives and douse DDT and ignorance upon their offspring. They have no rights, as you own them, through the produce you stir fry  and clothes you wear assembled in humid shops buried within third worlds

and though you will fight for them, occupying a land you stole from several others, you will stomp on their very necks, jabbing the share-the-wealth picket in their eye socket, and you might notice, though you won’t.

Class Evaluation:

This class was not only very immersive in discussion and lecture, but also technically impressive. I’m not one to flatter, but I was honestly impressed by the way you involved Google docs, blogger and twitter. The structure in which all of the assignments were well organized and provided an avenue for honest reflection of the course material while also maintaining focus of the subject at hand.  Another thing that I found highly useful while delving into Whitman were the resources you allocated via various links. The only issues I had with this course were merely personal, as time management is a problem that I am still working on. I’ve never been fond of twitter and some streamlining with the mother blog would have eased the complications of navigating another web media for an assignment. All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed your class and only wished I could have given it my 100%, because it was honestly the most technically impressive class I’ve taken thus far. Thank you for making Whitman enjoyable Professor Hanley.

Peter