Blackout Poetry · May 8, 2022

A blackout poem made from a page of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. Words are crossed out in black and the remaining ones are colored in red. A black and white photo of a woman in an eye mask is pasted on the page. The page is decorated with sewn read thread and drawings of leaves.

By Nancy Zigler

I am august,
I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself
I exist     that is enough,
One word is by far the largest to me, and that is myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten million years,
I can wait.
know the amplitude of time.
I am the poet of the pleasures of heaven and the pains of hell
there is nothing greater than the mother
I chant enough
size is only development