Farther away I begin to run from you!
Farther stretching myself into my work
Playing more as I am limbered
I am unfit for such a game
I do not compete
I do not measure myself against any man
I am the perfect thing
I am the proof that the next thing will be greater
If I am the meter
Then he who outstrips me proves me great
He who measures his lyric against mine renews my growth
I stretch and extend myself eternally
All poetry then‽
Walt Whitman, a kosmos!
Leonnie Dickens, a nebulous singularity then!
The moon then! and the sun, its self-obviating spheroid!
This is the game of it
To make of oneself a dense and spinning thing
An expanding, energy creating, self-sustained system
A ball of matter, a ball of life, the water of the heavens
A wave of a man
A particle of woman
A whole human of starry effluvia