Blackout Poetry · June 15, 2022

A blackout poem made from a page of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. The poet has glued two pages together and in some places cut away the words of the first page to reveal words on the second page. Two lines, in particular, are peeled back nd stick out from the sides of the page.

By anonymous

As I went forth in the morning, as I beheld the light breaking in the east,
As I bathed on the beach of the Eastern Sea, and again on the beach of the Western Sea,
As I roam’d the streets of inland Chicago, whatever streets I have roam’d,
Or cities or silent woods, amid the sights of war,
Wherever I have been I have charged myself with contentment and my soul
triumph.

I sing to the last the equalities modern or old,
I sing the finalés and of things,
I say Nature continues, glory continues,
I praise with electric voice,
For I do not see one imperfection in the universe,
And I do not see one cause of result lamentable at last in the universe.
O setting sun! though the time has come,
I still warble under you, if non else does, unmitigated adoration.
PENSIVE ON HER DEAD GAZING   become him well, pride is for him,
AS AT THY PORTALS ALSO excellent DEATH

As at thy portals also death,
Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds,
To memories of my mother, to the divine blending, maternity,
To her, buried and gone, yet buried not, gone not from me,
(I see again the calm benignant face fresh and beautiful still,
I sit by the form in the d and cried
I kiss and kiss convulsively the sweet old lips, the cheeks, the closed eyes in the coffin;)
To her, the ideal woman, practical, spiritual, of all of earth, life, love, to me the best,

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Chicago,
silent woods,
triumph.
finalés
A man’s body at auction,
PENSIVE ON HER DEAD GAZING
excellent DEATH
and cried
coffin;)
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