Podcasts about Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

Read by Aaron Novak   Production and Sound Design by Kevin Seaman

“I knew how I worked myself up into my own visions.” Show notes SLEERICKETS Ep 177: Alice & Elijah vs. the Abyss praise song by Nate Marshall (link to Marshall's reading at the top) Crossing Brooklyn Ferry by Walt Whitman Anaphora Despite My Efforts Even My Prayers Have Turned into Threats by Kaveh Akbar Poetry … Continue reading "Ep 294. The American Ecstatic"

Visit glögg glögg, a POP up ART sale, Dec 13-14 in Woodstock NY: ⁠website⁠ or ⁠IG⁠ --------------- Artist, Jennifer Coates is back for Part 3 in our series about finding artistic resilience through research! This time we look at these artists and how they adapted to their own gloomy times of foreboding: Kay Sage: Found a way to paint even though she was a victim of domestic violence and ignored by the art world, and used her money to help Surrealist artists flee Germany and France before WWII Grete Stern: Sneakily slipped in feminist art into a fluffy women's magazine under the Peronist regime Jacob Lawrence: Illustrated injustices and acts of racism not covered by the history books Frederic Edwin Church: Painted an emblem that many thought symbolized the coming Civil War Works mentioned: Kay Sage works: "This Morning" 1939, "China Eggs" Autobiography, "I Saw Three Cities" 1944, "A Bird in the Room" 1955, "Destiny" a poem Grete Stern works: "Los Sueños: Muñecos (Dreams: The Doll)" 1949 for Idilio Magazine (Argentina) Jacob Lawrence works: "The Life of Toussaint Louverture," "Migration" and "Struggle" Series Frederic Edwin Church works: "Meteor" 1860, with writers/poets: Herman Melville's "The Portent" 1859, Walt Whitman's "Year of Meteors" 1860 and "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" 1856 (both "Leaves of Grass") Other artists mentioned: André Breton, Fra Angelico, Piero della Francesca **Disclaimer: As we are not historians by trade, some factual errors may have slipped through. Apologies if so ** Jennifer Coates online: ⁠web⁠ and ⁠IG⁠ Amy Talluto online: ⁠web⁠ and ⁠IG⁠ Thank you, Jennifer! Thank you, Listeners! All music by Soundstripe ---------------------------- Pep Talks on IG: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@peptalksforartists⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Pep Talks website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠peptalksforartists.com⁠⁠⁠⁠ Amy, your beloved host, on IG: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠@talluts⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Amy's website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠amytalluto.com⁠⁠⁠⁠ Pep Talks on Art Spiel as written essays: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://tinyurl.com/7k82vd8s⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠BuyMeACoffee⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Donations always appreciated! --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/peptalksforartistspod/support

Welcome to The Nonlinear Library, where we use Text-to-Speech software to convert the best writing from the Rationalist and EA communities into audio. This is: Sharing Reality with Walt Whitman [Video], published by michel on April 9, 2024 on The Effective Altruism Forum. In 1860, Walt Whitman addressed future generations with his poem "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry". On the shores Brooklyn, he feels the same reality as "men and women of a generation, or ever so many generations hence," and he knows it: [...] I am with you, Just as you feel when you look on the river and sky, so I felt, Just as any of you is one of a living crowd, I was one of a crowd, Just as you are refresh'd by the gladness of the river and the bright flow, I was refresh'd, What thought you have of me now, I had as much of you - I laid in my stores in advance, I consider'd long and seriously of you before you were born. [...] I first heard this poem in Joe Carlsmith's essay "On future people, looking back on 21st century longtermism."I loved it. I happened to be going to New York a few weeks later, and I happen to enjoy making little videos. So, I made a video complementing Walt Whitman's poem with scenes from my Brooklyn visit, a 160 years later. If you like this video or the poem, I recommend reading Joe Carlsmith's whole essay. Here's the section where Joe reacts to Walt Whitman's poem, with longtermism and the idea of "shared reality" in mind: It feels like Whitman is living, and writing, with future people - including, in some sense, myself - very directly in mind. He's saying to his readers: I was alive. You too are alive. We are alive together, with mere time as the distance. I am speaking to you. You are listening to me. I am looking at you. You are looking at me. If the basic longtermist empirical narrative sketched above is correct, and our descendants go on to do profoundly good things on cosmic scales, I have some hope they might feel something like this sense of "shared reality" with longtermists in the centuries following the industrial revolution - as well as with many others, in different ways, throughout human history, who looked to the entire future, and thought of what might be possible. In particular, I imagine our descendants looking back at those few centuries, and seeing some set of humans, amidst much else calling for attention, lifting their gaze, crunching a few numbers, and recognizing the outlines of something truly strange and extraordinary - that somehow, they live at the very beginning, in the most ancient past; that something immense and incomprehensible and profoundly important is possible, and just starting, and in need of protection." Thanks to Joe Carlsmith for letting me use his audio, and for writing his essay. Thanks to Lara Thurnherr and Finn Hambley for early feedback on the video. Thanks for listening. To help us out with The Nonlinear Library or to learn more, please visit nonlinear.org

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry by Walt Whitman

This episode is about the many facets of America's Poet - Walt Whitman.  George attempts to take a deep dive (as much as possible in a single podcast episode) into the personal life of Walt Whitman, fully knowing that millions of words have been written about him.Learn about the time that Whitman met Poe.Learn a VERY embarrassing (but hopefully enlightening) story about George.Learn about MAJOR differences between different editions of Leaves of Grass,Learn why the Calamus poems were so controversial.Learn about the time that Walt Whitman and Oscar Wilde met.Learn how Rufus Griswold (yes, THAT Griswold) trashed Whitman.Learn how Whitman was considered undesirable and shocking for “decent ears.”Learn how lawyers of the time considered Whitman a homosexual because he never smoked, and did not enjoy war.00:00 Introduction 01:54 Whitman and Poe07:22 “Shame” around the campfire09:01 Whitman's life12:31 Comparison of versions from Leaves of Grass16:53 Civil War and Beat! Beat! Drums!18:40 O Captain, My Captain21:04 from Crossing Brooklyn Ferry 22:14 Calamus poems29:13 Reflections on public perceptions30:49 Walt Whitman's Anomaly34:16 Whitman and intimate relationships?36:01 Rufus Griswold's opinions38:30 Meeting of Wilde and Whitman40:41 Conclusion44:20 Future Episodes44:52 Sources45:54 Outro

***Mini-podcast voyageur en direct de New York-Jersey City*** *Musiques* : - "Layal" de Wizkid et Rema - Sons en direct de New York *Poème du jour* : Crossing Brooklyn Ferry by Walt Whitman (qu'on ne présente plus !) *Pensée du jour*: Have a good good week and don't forget "Stay Flyr" ;o) --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/ubuntuu/message

The first poem in Sean Singers' new collection of poetry, Today in the Taxi, published by Tupelo Press, begins with, “Today in the taxi, I brought a man from midtown to someplace in Astoria near the airport.” From that ordinary beginning, the poems explore the many features of New York City--its people, its streets, its highways, and its neighborhoods--all delivered through the impressions of an Uber driver. Like Walt Whitman, whose poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” turned a short boat ride into a meditation on life, death and eternity, Sean's poetry starts in everyday experiences and grasps large realms of significance. Sean, now a former Uber driver, holds an MFA from Washington University in Saint Louis and a Ph.D. in American Studies from Rutgers University-Newark. He is the author of two other books of poetry: Discography, which won the Yale Series of Younger Poets Prize and the Norma Faber First Book Award from the Poetry Society of America, and Honey and Smoke---which the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Yusef Komunyakaa said was “made of life's raw lyrical energy, where jazz becomes a spiritual compass.” Sean now works helping people write poetry and academic prose at seansingerpoetry.com. Robert W. Snyder is Manhattan Borough Historian and professor emeritus of American Studies and Journalism at Rutgers University, where he served on Sean's dissertation committee. He is the author of Crossing Broadway: Washington Heights and the Promise of New York (Cornell, paperback, 2019) and co-author of All the Nations Under Heaven: Immigrants, Migrants and the Making of New York (Columbia, 2019). He can be reached at rwsnyder@rutgers.edu. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

The first poem in Sean Singers' new collection of poetry, Today in the Taxi, published by Tupelo Press, begins with, “Today in the taxi, I brought a man from midtown to someplace in Astoria near the airport.” From that ordinary beginning, the poems explore the many features of New York City--its people, its streets, its highways, and its neighborhoods--all delivered through the impressions of an Uber driver. Like Walt Whitman, whose poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” turned a short boat ride into a meditation on life, death and eternity, Sean's poetry starts in everyday experiences and grasps large realms of significance. Sean, now a former Uber driver, holds an MFA from Washington University in Saint Louis and a Ph.D. in American Studies from Rutgers University-Newark. He is the author of two other books of poetry: Discography, which won the Yale Series of Younger Poets Prize and the Norma Faber First Book Award from the Poetry Society of America, and Honey and Smoke---which the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Yusef Komunyakaa said was “made of life's raw lyrical energy, where jazz becomes a spiritual compass.” Sean now works helping people write poetry and academic prose at seansingerpoetry.com. Robert W. Snyder is Manhattan Borough Historian and professor emeritus of American Studies and Journalism at Rutgers University, where he served on Sean's dissertation committee. He is the author of Crossing Broadway: Washington Heights and the Promise of New York (Cornell, paperback, 2019) and co-author of All the Nations Under Heaven: Immigrants, Migrants and the Making of New York (Columbia, 2019). He can be reached at rwsnyder@rutgers.edu. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/literature

The first poem in Sean Singers' new collection of poetry, Today in the Taxi, published by Tupelo Press, begins with, “Today in the taxi, I brought a man from midtown to someplace in Astoria near the airport.” From that ordinary beginning, the poems explore the many features of New York City--its people, its streets, its highways, and its neighborhoods--all delivered through the impressions of an Uber driver. Like Walt Whitman, whose poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” turned a short boat ride into a meditation on life, death and eternity, Sean's poetry starts in everyday experiences and grasps large realms of significance. Sean, now a former Uber driver, holds an MFA from Washington University in Saint Louis and a Ph.D. in American Studies from Rutgers University-Newark. He is the author of two other books of poetry: Discography, which won the Yale Series of Younger Poets Prize and the Norma Faber First Book Award from the Poetry Society of America, and Honey and Smoke---which the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Yusef Komunyakaa said was “made of life's raw lyrical energy, where jazz becomes a spiritual compass.” Sean now works helping people write poetry and academic prose at seansingerpoetry.com. Robert W. Snyder is Manhattan Borough Historian and professor emeritus of American Studies and Journalism at Rutgers University, where he served on Sean's dissertation committee. He is the author of Crossing Broadway: Washington Heights and the Promise of New York (Cornell, paperback, 2019) and co-author of All the Nations Under Heaven: Immigrants, Migrants and the Making of New York (Columbia, 2019). He can be reached at rwsnyder@rutgers.edu. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/poetry

In this episode, Christopher Hanlon joins us to discuss an excerpt from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass. We discuss the poem's prophetic voice, its patterns of repetition, the connective tissue that binds his ideas and invites readers in, and the cultural context in which Whitman produced his work. To read the text of this poem, click here (https://poets.org/poem/song-myself-6-child-said-what-grass) or see below: To learn more about Walt Whitman and his work, visit the Walt Whitman Archive (https://whitmanarchive.org/), a magnificent compendium of information about Whitman's life, cultural context, and editions of Leaves of Grass. To learn more about scholar Christopher Hanlon, click here (https://newcollege.asu.edu/christopher-hanlon). Text from Leaves of Grass: A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps. This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers, Darker than the colorless beards of old men, Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths. O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women, And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps. What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

Celebrated Australian author and narrator Morris Gleitzman spoke with host Jo Reed for today's bonus episode of Behind the Mic. The Australian Children's Laureate from 2018-2019 is perhaps best known for his series of books that begins with ONCE, which concluded last year with the heartfelt ALWAYS. Listen to the conversation to gain insights into his moving, humorous, and hopeful books for young listeners, and on narrating his own audiobooks. Discover reviews of Morris's audiobooks at AudioFile's website. Find more audiobook recommendations at audiofilemagazine.com Today's episode is sponsored by Naxos AudioBooks. April is National Poetry Month. Celebrate with The Great Poets: Walt Whitman– an excellent introduction, and an AudioFile Earphones Award winner. Read by Garrick Hagon, this audiobook contains some of Whitman's greatest poems, including Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking, and When the Lilacs Gently Bloomed. Find out about it at naxosaudiobooks.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Nile Bullock captures the goofy energy of Justin A. Reynolds's hilarious middle-grade audiobook. Host Jo Reed and AudioFile's Emily Connelly discuss the charming Eddie, a 12-year-old who tells listeners all about his perfect plan to escape his chores this summer—and how it goes horribly wrong. Listeners will be laughing as he describes the horrors of laundry (and basements), the sadness of being left behind as everyone else goes to the big Beach Bash (or so he thinks), and the alarm he feels at the power going out (leaving him with nothing to wear but swim trunks). Eddie speaks directly to listeners, and Bullock narrates with a fast, bouncy pace, happily taking listeners down Eddie's many meandering tangents, and off on an adventure around the neighborhood. Read the full review of the audiobook on AudioFile's website. Published by Scholastic Audiobooks. Find more audiobook recommendations at audiofilemagazine.com Today's episode is sponsored by Naxos AudioBooks. April is National Poetry Month. Celebrate with The Great Poets: Walt Whitman– an excellent introduction, and an AudioFile Earphones Award winner. Read by Garrick Hagon, this audiobook contains some of Whitman's greatest poems, including Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking, and When the Lilacs Gently Bloomed. Find out about it at naxosaudiobooks.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

I'm Christy Shriver and we're here to discuss books that have changed the world and have changed us.  And I am Garry Shriver.  This is the How to Love Lit Podcast. This is our second episode discussing the bard of democracy, the great Walt Whitman.  Today we will feature one of his four poems honoring President Abraham Lincoln, but in order to understand why Whitman and many of us admire this great man, we want to revisit the  original 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass and listen to some of Whitman's observations of African Americans and slavery.  Christy, let's start this episode by reading and discussing two extracts from “I sing the Body Electric” , the ones where Whitman describes an African man and then an African woman at auction.    A man's body at auction,  (For before the war I often go to the slave-mart and watch the sale,)  I help the auctioneer, the sloven does not half know his business.    Gentlemen look on this wonder,  Whatever the bids of the bidders they cannot be high enough for it,  For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years without one animal or plant,  For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll'd.  In this head the all-baffling brain,  In it and below it the makings of heroes.  Examine these limbs, red, black, or white, they are cunning in tendon and nerve,  They shall be stript that you may see them.  Exquisite senses, life-lit eyes, pluck, volition,  Flakes of breast-muscle, pliant backbone and neck, flesh not flabby, good-sized arms and legs,  And wonders within there yet.  Within there runs blood,  The same old blood! the same red-running blood!  There swells and jets a heart, there all passions, desires, reachings, aspirations,  (Do you think they are not there because they are not express'd in parlors and lecture-rooms?)  This is not only one man, this the father of those who shall be fathers in their turns,  In him the start of populous states and rich republics,  Of him countless immortal lives with countless embodiments and enjoyments.  How do you know who shall come from the offspring of his offspring through the centuries?  (Who might you find you have come from yourself, if you could trace back through the centuries?)    8    A woman's body at auction,  She too is not only herself, she is the teeming mother of mothers,  She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.  Have you ever loved the body of a woman?  Have you ever loved the body of a man?  Do you not see that these are exactly the same to all in all nations and times all over the earth?  If any thing is sacred the human body is sacred,  And the glory and sweet of a man is the token of manhood untainted,  And in man or woman a clean, strong, firm-fibred body, is more beautiful than the most beautiful face.  Have you seen the fool that corrupted his own live body? or the fool that corrupted her own live body?  For they do not conceal themselves, and cannot conceal themselves.  Whitman was raised a New York democrat, but his sympathies were with the Free Soil party that condemned the extension of slavery as a sin against God and a crime against man.  The Republican party would not exist until 1854, and Lincoln would be their presidential candidate in the election of 1860.  Of course, bear in mind, that the issues of those days are different than the issues of today, so the party names shouldn't be taken to represent modern day politics.      For Whitman it was undeniable for anyone with eyeballs that all men are born human and that implies certain things regardless if they are born  free or slave- of any race, creed or gender.  It is obvious to a man so aware of the physical body, that we are of the same atom-  the magnificence of the body proclaims our humanity- and ironically where on earth could this magnificence be most easily seen than at a slave auction like what he witnessed during his New Orleans days. In all of its ruthless degradation it ironically showcased the magnificence of the human body.  It's why Whitman could say, almost sarcastically- I am a better salesman of slaves than the auctioneer-I know and understand the beauty and value of what you are selling and you don't- you fool.   Whitman was the poet of the democratic soul- we are after all leaves of grass, but he was also the poet of the body- that physical form we are all chained to.  For Whitman, to be a human was to understand and be okay with one's physical body- and it is a holy thing. Our souls inhabit a sanctified space on earth- that of the body- be it man or woman- the pigmentation of flesh was just one of many individual and unique features- for Whitman our bodies is the starting point for equality- we are all wedded to one.      It doesn't seem radical to us now, but at that time in history- even talking about the body like that was revolutionary- almost vulgar- Whitman democratically equates the man with the woman with the black with the white.  In 1855, this was not self-evident anywhere else in the United States of America or really anywhere on planet earth.      By 1855, Walt Whitman knew his country was falling apart.  He understood that the ideals on which the great American experiment were founded were being overwhelmed by all kinds of forces, not least of which was plain ordinary corruption.  In his mind, what the world needed was repentance- a total course correction- a return to the original ideals and this was going to happen through conversion to a different set of moral ideals- he wanted to convince America to revisit and embrace all these original self-evident democratic ideals by reading and absorbing Leaves of Grass.  He really truly believed if people would just read his book, they would stop hating each other.    Well, it's a nice thought, however slightly unrealistic…especially in light of the single digit sales of that first edition.  But even if he had gotten everyone to read his book, it was a tall order.  By 1860, any kind of peaceful coming together seemed unrealistic.  America was on the brink of war and violence was springing up.  John Brown is one notable example; in an attempt to free slaves through violence he and a small gang stormed Harper's Ferry.  They were captured, tried and condemned to death, but this event inflamed the country and raised the stakes for the upcoming presidential election.  A few months after Brown was executed, the democratic party, split between pro and- anti- slavery factions, was to confront a new political party- one that had never existed before, the Republican party. It had nominated a Southern born anti-slavery man from Illinois, a lawyer who had never attended school but who was known as honest Abe.  A newspaper in South Carolina put it this way “the irrepressible conflict is about to be vised upon us through the Black Republican nominee and his fanatical diabolical Republican party.”    Walt Whitman did not see Lincoln as an instigator of a conflict.  Whitman saw him almost as an extension of himself- a mediator.  He really believed Lincoln was going to bring healing  and unity through politics something he had tried and failed to do through poetry.      I'm not sure which is the greater challenge= trying to unify  a group of people through poetry or politics!!      Ha! True but Whitman was paying attention to what Lincoln was saying and he identified with him.  He saw himself in Lincoln.  They both came from poor families. Neither had formal education.  One thing that is interesting, Lincoln was from the West, and Whitman believed the hope of America was in the West.  Both men believed in democracy to the core, but also- both believed in unity.  Whitman saw Lincoln as America's hope.    Although, he was likely the most hated man of his age in some corners, but the only hope of America in others.  Lincoln wanted first and foremost to be a unifier.  He had been elected with only around 40% of the popular vote, although he did get a majority of the electoral college votes.  There was no question America was deeply divided.  He wanted not just to save the physical boundaries of America, but he wanted to heal the wounds that were making people hate each other.  Lincoln's father was anti-slavery and raised in an anti-slavery Baptist congregation.   Lincoln But his mother was from a Kentucky slaveholding family.  Lincoln later recalled that the reason his father left Kentucky and the South because of his strong feelings about slavery. Lincoln himself saw many cruel things while visiting his grandparents, not the least of these being once when an African-American family was separated on a boat and sold to different owners.  He later recalled that ‘the sight was a continual torment to me…having the power of making me miserable.”  However, Lincoln's mother's family were people he knew intimately, and somehow he understood how someone could support slavery and not be an evil person.  This sounds crazy to us and difficult to understand, but Lincoln expressed on more than one occasion to men across the North that if they had been born in those circumstances in that place and in that world, they likely would have had those same views.  This way of seeing one's fellow man is more radical than most of us can even comprehend.  It's a strange idea to assert that a person could believe something is morally wrong so strongly that he would be willing to lead a nation to war to end it, but simultaneously judge the perpetrators of this evil redeemable human beings.  95% of humans today can't think like that-       Well, it's something Whitman could do as well.  Whitman didn't fight in the Civil War, but his brother George did.  His brother fought for the Union.  Whitman's significant other fought for the Confederacy at one point.     The first shots of the Civil War were fired by the South on Fort Sumter in Charleston, SC, in April of 1861.  Lincoln had been president for just a few weeks.       In December of 1862, Whitman saw his brother's name on a list of casualities.  He got on a train and headed South to look for him. He ended up in Fredericksburg.  The good news was his brother had only suffered a flesh wound.  But outside the hospital Whitman saw something that struck horror and terror into his being.  Let me read his words after he came to the building being used as a hospital, he saw, “a heap of amputated feet, legs, arms, hands, etc….a full load for a one-horse cart…human fragments, cut bloody, black and blue, swelled and sickening…nearby were several dead bodes each covered with its brown woolen blanket.”  Now you have to remember, think about Leaves of Grass and “I sing the Body Electric”.  This is a man who had been trying to convince America to celebrate our bodies- all of our bodies- we read just the excert about African-Americans, but he celebrated all bodies and wanted us to see ourselves in other people's bodies- to recognize the sanctity in all bodies- and here he's staring at these body parts scattered around, cut off and thrown into piles.  I can't even imagine how things would smell.      Whitman's reaction to what he saw on the battlefields and field hospitals of Frederickburg, led him to a decision that altered the course of his life.  It would lead him to move to Washington DC and honestly, his war actions to me make him something of a saint.  Just in Frederickburg, he stuck around to visit and help bury the dead of the over 18,000 dead soldiers that were just lying on the ground.  But, then he started visiting hospitals.  These visits deeply affected him.  He had planned on going back to New York after he found his brother, but he couldn't do that anymore.  Instead he changed courses and went to Washington DC.  He got a job as a clerk where he would work during the day, but then he would spend the rest of his time in the hospitals.  And he would just sit with soldiers.  He didn't care if they were union of confederate.  He brought  with him bags of candy.  He wrote letters to their parents.  He played twenty questions.  If they wanted him to read the Bible, he read the Bible.  If they wanted a cigarette, he'd scrounge up a cigarette. Many of them were teenagers.  He kissed  and hugged them; he parented them in their final moments of life.  For many, he was the last tender face they would see on this earth.  The numbers range, but documentation reveals he visited and helped anywhere from 80-100,000 soldiers.      Let me interrupt you for a second to highlight how bad it was to be in a hospital during this time period.  No one at this time understood the importance of anticeptics or the need to be clean.  The Union Army lost 300,000 lives in combat.  But, they experienced an estimated 6,400,000 cases of illnesses, wound and injuries.  Hospitals were filthy and dangerous places.      For many of those young men, Whitman was the last touch of kindness they would ever experience on this earth.  He said later that those years of hospital service were and I quote, “the greatest privilege and satisfaction..and, of course, the most profound lesson of my life.”  He usually left the hospital at night and slept in a room he rented but if a soldier needed him or asked him to stay, he would often stay up all night with wounded and dying men and then head from the hospital to the office.  Here are his words "While I was with wounded and sick in thousands of cases from the New England States, and from New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania, and from Michigan, Wisconsin, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and all the Western States, I was with more or less from all the States, North and South, without exception… "I was with many rebel officers and men among our wounded, and gave them always what I had, and tried to cheer them the same as any. . . . Among the black soldiers, wounded or sick, and in the contraband camps, I also took my way whenever in their neighborhood, and did what I could for them.”        Well, let me also say that Washington DC was a nasty place to be living at that time.  Physically, it was a construction zone, nothing like the beautiful collection of buildings and streets designed by the French architect Pierre L Enfant that we see today.   It was muddy; it noisy; it was full of the noises of building and killing.  It was political.  Abraham Lincoln stated that during those days, “If there is a worse place than Hell, I am in it.”      Dang, because DC, the city, was so bad?    Because being president in the Civil War was so bad.  Lincoln had a different view of his role of leadership than most people today understand.  And we need to go back to when he was elected in 1860.  The country was divided- and even if you didn't believe in slavery, the question of how to get rid of it wasn't something people agreed on.  Many thought it should just be abolished. Others thought you should just keep it from expanding and let it die slowly.   Lincoln was surrounded by people on all sides who all wanted him to have “bold leadership”- do radical things- whatever those were to them- but Lincoln liked to respond to his critics by referencing an entertainer who was known for tight walking over water.  Sometimes, he even would push a wheelbarrow across these ropes; one time he stopped in the middle of the river to eat an omelete on his tightrope, sometimes he'd carry someone on his back- all crazy stunts that didn't seem survivable.  Lincoln had seen him perform walking a tight rope across Niagara falls and he thought it was a perfect metaphor for how he saw himself.  Let me quote Lincoln here- the artist went by the name Blondin. Suppose,” Lincoln said, “that all the material values in this great country of ours, from the Atlantic to the Pacific—its wealth, its prosperity, its achievements in the present and its hopes for the future—could all have been concentrated and given to Blondin to carry over that awful crossing.” Suppose “you had been standing upon the shore as he was going over, as he was carefully feeling his way along and balancing his pole with all his most delicate skill over the thundering cataract. Would you have shouted at him, ‘Blondin, a step to the right!' ‘Blondin, a step to the left!' or would you have stood there speechless and held your breath and prayed to the Almighty to guide and help him safely through the trial?”    Lincoln saw himself on a tight rope and going too far one way or the other would make the entire thing collapse.  He wasn't trying to crush and destroy his fellow man, even his Southern brother,  although he was trying to win the war and emancipate the slaves, which he did do.  He was trying to heal a nation- to bring brother back to brother.  And we must never forget that brothers WERE literally killing their brothers.  Uniting and building a country that was this morally divided was a seemingly impossible task- and he could see from his perch in Washington that this was hell.    Whitman would stop to see him going in and out of the White House.  This was in the days when you could do that.  They didn't even have secret service for the president. Whitman looked at Lincoln and saw sadness in his eyes.  But Whitman always believed Lincoln was the right man.  If anyone could bring America together, it was Lincoln. Lincoln didn't hate his enemy.  He loved his enemy.  Just like Whitman.  This was the attitude where Whitman saw hope and a future as he sat with both confederate and Union soldier, black soldiers and white soldiers, mending their wounds, writing their final farewells.      But make no mistake, Lincoln was committed to emancipation and as the war came to the end and reconstruction was in sight, he was preparing America to grant full citizenship that included voting rights to All American males- including African-American ones.  In one letter he said, “I am naturally anti-slavery.  If slavery is not wrong; nothing is wrong.  I cannot remember when I did not think so, and feel so”.     And yet this is the same man who could say during his second inaugural address, one month before General Lee will surrender at Appomatox and 41 days before he will be murdered…     With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan -- to achieve and cherish a lasting peace among ourselves and with the world. to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with the world. all nations.    There was one man in the crowd that day, who was actually so close to Lincoln he shows up in the inauguaration picture.  This man heard those words and was committed to stopping Lincoln from fulfilling this pledge.  John Wilkes Booth was standing not far from Lincoln that day.  On April 11, what we now know was to be his last speech, Lincoln called for black suffrage.  Booth was in the audience that day as well, after hearing Lincoln make that statement Booth is known to have said, “that is the last speech he will ever make.”    On that fateful day, April 15, 1865 Whitman was visiting his family.  However, his significant other, Peter Doyle was in Washington DC and heard that the president was going to Ford's theater to see a performance of the comedy “My American Cousin.”  It was Good Friday, the sacred day where Christians celebrate the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.  This is what Peter Doyle  said later about what happened that evening.     I heard that the President and his wife would be present and made up my mind to go. There was a great crowd in the building. I got into the second gallery. There was nothing extraordinary in the performance. I saw everything on the stage and was in a good position to see the President's box. I heard the pistol shot. I had no idea what it was, what it meant—it was sort of muffled. I really knew nothing of what had occurred until Mrs. Lincoln leaned out of the box and cried, "The President is shot!" I needn't tell you what I felt then, or saw. It is all put down in Walt's piece—that piece is exactly right. I saw Booth on the cushion of the box, saw him jump over, saw him catch his foot, which turned, saw him fall on the stage. He got up on his feet, cried out something which I could not hear for the hub-hub and disappeared. I suppose I lingered almost the last person. A soldier came into the gallery, saw me still there, called to me: "Get out of here! we're going to burn this damned building down!" I said: "If that is so I'll get out!"     Whitman used Doyle's account to help pen the only poem that I know of where Whitman  used traditional poetic forms.  It is an Elegy for the death of Abraham Lincoln, titled “O Captain My Captain”.  He actually wrote two elegies- one speaking for the nation- in the voice of a common sailor- it he wrote in a formal style of poetry acceptable to the people of his day.  The second, in some ways more personal because it is in a style similar to what we see in the rest of Leaves of Grass.  The second poem, When Lilacs …”is often thought be be written after O Captain” Although I'm not sure it is.  It is more epic in its feeling- it uses symbols that are more archetypal and timeless- although that term wasn't invented in his day.  In O Captain my Captain, Whitman takes on the persona of a soldier, a sailor.  In the second, he uses his own voice- that universal “I” like we see in Song of Myself.  We don't have time to read the entirely of “O Lilacs When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom' , it has over 200 lines, but we can Read a little bit of it.  Instead we will focus on the only poem anthologized during Whitman's lifetime- O Captain my Captain.    The one I know from that famous scene in Dead Poet's Society where the students stand for their fallen teacher, John Keating, immortalized by Robin Williams.     Agreed- I can't read this poem without thinking of Robin Williams, but we should probably try since we spent quite a bit of time setting up the image of Lincoln.       O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,  The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won,  The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,  While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;                           But O heart! heart! heart!                              O the bleeding drops of red,                                 Where on the deck my Captain lies,                                    Fallen cold and dead.    O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;  Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,  For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,  For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;                           Here Captain! dear father!                              This arm beneath your head!                                 It is some dream that on the deck,                                   You've fallen cold and dead.    My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,  My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,  The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,  From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;                           Exult O shores, and ring O bells!                              But I with mournful tread,                                 Walk the deck my Captain lies,                                    Fallen cold and dead.    As we have clearly expressed, Whitman the defender of the common man, does not usually elevate one person over another- but For Lincoln he makes a notable exception.  O Captain my Captain is written from the point of view of an insider. We can imagine a young soldier, a sailor.   He's on the ship- Of course, the captain is President Lincoln- the ship is the country.  The tone is one of exultation then distress.  We had finished- the fearful trip was done!!!  We had made it then….    Christy, and it's important to note that it WAS done.  Lincoln did bring that ship to harbor.  On April 2, right before he died on the 11th The confederacy vacated Richmond.  On April 4, President Lincoln together with his ten year old son Tad walked through the streets and into Jefferson Davis' office.  “Admiral Porter who was with him had this to say, “No electric wire could have carried the news of the President's arrival sooner than it was circulated through Richmond.  As far as the eye could see the streets were alive with negroes and poor whites rushing in our direction, and the crowd increased so fast that I had to surround the President with sailors with fixed bayonets to keep them off.  They all wanted to shake hand with Mr. Lincoln or his coat tail or even to kneel and kiss his boots.”  Later on Admiral Porter said this, “I should have preferred to see the President of the United States entering the subjugated stronghold of the rebel with an escort more befitting his high station, yet that would have looked as if he came as a conqueror to exult over a brave but fallen enemy.  He came instead as a peacemaker, his hand extended to all who desired to take it.”  Christy, at one point, it is said that an older African American gentleman bowed before Lincoln and Lincoln went to the man, took him by the hand and raised him up and told him he didn't need to kneel to anyone, he was a free man.  I cannot imagine the emotion.    And so we try to imagine the emotion – after so much carnage, who could walk the tightright and heal the utter hatred still inherent in the heart of both victor and defeated.  Notice there is meter, each stanza is composed of iambs which may or may not mean anything to you.  It just means there's a beat- like a drum beat, like a heart beat- “The ship has wethered every rack, the prize we sought is won.  The people are exalting.    But then he dies…in the first two stanzas, the boy addresses the captain as someone still alive, but by the third stanza he has accepted the reality.  And of course, this is exactly has grief strikes.  We never accept it initially, at least I have that problem.  I'll share my personal experiences in a different episode, but it's natural.  He says, “Rise up, Father.”  We feel a sense of desperation- the idea- of = no,  no, no, this can't be happening.  It's not possible.  Not now. Not after all of this.   But by the third stanza, the sailor unwillingly switches to the third person.  My captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still.”   There is a sense of intimacy, “MY father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will”.  We also see that that formality of the meter breaks down in that last line, “Fallen cold and dead”.  The sailor has broken down.   America is not just devastated because their leader is dead, but they are now vulnerable- what's going to happen to us.  Who can lead us?  Who can walk the tightrope?    And that of course, is the ultimate tragedy.   We will never know what might have been had he lived to complete his second term, but one statesman grasped fully the tragedy when he predicted that “the development of things will teach us to mourn him doubly.”  And of course he was right, even Jefferson Davis, the leader of the conferederacy, although I point out that Lincoln never one time acknowledged him as preside,  bemoaned Lincoln's death after losing the war and for good reason.  After Lincoln''s death, profiteers, corruption and all kinds of chaos descended on America.  Grant, who was a sincere and an incredible advocate for African Americans, was able to defeat the confederate armies but not able to contain the host of corruption that plagued our nation during reconstruction.    And so we end with Whitman's final poem- his most personal tribute to Lincoln and the one that many consider the better if less famous work, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom”.  In this poem, Whitman reverts to his usual style of free verse and strong metaphors.  It's beautiful and for me, it's where we see the universal truth of lost moral leadership and grief emerge- he expresses loss well beyond the moment of Lincoln.  Let's read just the first little bit.  It's long, and references the journey of Lincoln's casket to its final resting place without ever mentioning Lincoln's name.     When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd,  And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,  I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.    Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,  Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,  And thought of him I love.    2  O powerful western fallen star!  O shades of night—O moody, tearful night!  O great star disappear'd—O the black murk that hides the star!  O cruel hands that hold me powerless—O helpless soul of me!  O harsh surrounding cloud that will not free my soul.    There are three big symbols in this poem= the lilacs, the sun and then a bird.  But since we read only the first two stanzas, I want to focus on those.  Lilacs are flowers that have a strong smell and were blooming at the time of Lincoln's death.  They are beautiful, but they also return every spring.  The star is an obvious symbol for Lincoln.  I want to point out that Whitman never really used stars as positive images for leaders because he didn't like the idea of a ruler just hoarding over us- but again, in this case, he made an exception.  Lincoln was the powerful star- and of course, we are left to answer, why would a man, so bent on equality of humans, elevate this one man- the only man he would elevate- it wasn't just because he was the president.  It was because he embodied what a great leader truly was- and this is the nice idea that I think resonates through the ages.      Agreed, average leaders and I will say most leaders give lip service to serving all people, but we can see by their actions, that a lot of that is propaganda.  Most are in it to win it.  It's easy to get to the top and view oneself as better than the rest of us.  It's just natural to do what's best for me or my team, so to speak.  It's natural to want to put enemies in submission- prove own own power and greatness.  But Lincoln was different- his compassion for his enemy, his unwavering commitment to integrity, his ability to see beyond his current moment, is a star- something that outlasts us all.  The South as well as the North mourned deeply Lincoln's loss.  The procession described in this poem where the casket was taken from Washington DC back to Illinois was something that had never happened in the history of the United States and has not happened since.      It is a legacy of leadership that Whitman not only admired but also immortalized.  It's also a legacy that I find inspiring no matter how great or small our little ships are, if we are ever called to be a captain.  It's something to think about when we smell lilacs in the Spring.  For Whitman every time we smelled those flowers, we grieve, but also we remember- because just as lilacs return every Spring, so does a new opportunity- the end of the Lilac poem looks to the future.  In another of Whitman's great poems, “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” he says this, “We use you, and do not cast you aside-we plant you          permanently within us,       We fathom you not-we love you-there is perfection in          you also,       You furnish your parts toward eternity,       Great or small, you furnish your parts toward the soul.”  It's a nice idea, Lincoln was a man, but for Whitman he embodied an ideal we can all aspire to: integrity, humility, compassion and grace- in defeat and death but also in victory.  Whitman believed in those ideals in leadership- leadership that embraces those things can lead a ship to harbor in scary waters.  Perhaps, when we smell the lilacs, we can be reminded that those ideals are also planted in us.     Thanks for listening.  We hope you enjoyed our discussions of Walt Whitman.  Next episode, we will look farther into the American past to even deeper roots of democracy on the American continent, the Iroquois constitution.  So, thanks for listening, as always please share a link to our podcast to a friend or friends.  Push it out on your social media platforms via twitter, Instagram, facebook or linked in.  Text an episode to a friend, and if you are an educator, visit our website for instructional resources.  Peace out.                 

Lorna arranged the strings on several of the tracks on the Possible album including "Undying" which is currently submitted for a Grammy for Best Contemporary Classical Composition.  Please let your Grammy voting friends know! Lorna is the founding keyboardist/synthesist of the “all-star, all-female quintet” (Time Out NY) Victoire with indie-classical darling and longtime collaborator composer Missy Mazzoli. Recent seasons included the Carnegie Hall commission and premiere of Mazzoli's Vespers for a New Dark Age, performed by the ensemble Victoire, percussionist Glenn Kotche (of Wilco) and members of vocal ensemble Roomful of Teeth. Lorna Dune arranged and co-produced the Vespers album, which was released in March 2015 on New Amsterdam Records. The New York Times called it “ravishing and unsettling”, and the album was praised on NPR's First Listen, All Things Considered and Pitchfork. Victoire returned to Carnegie Hall in March of 2015 as part of the “Meredith Monk and Friends” concert. Their past debut album Cathedral City, released on New Amsterdam Records, was named one of 2010ʹs best classical albums by the New York Times, Time Out New York, the New Yorker and NPR. A well-seasoned pianist and synthesist, she has joined the Philip Glass Ensemble for a production of his new work for Shakespeare in the Park, has worked with composer Steve Reich, composer and visual artist Tristan Perich, Meredith Monk, Lukas Ligeti and other talented artists. Her recent keyboard performances include a premiere of a synthesizer concerto by composer William Brittelle and the Seattle Symphony Orchestra. Other highlights from this and past seasons include a premieres with the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra & Alabama Symphony Orchestra, a Carnegie Hall premiere with Victoire, BAM Next Wave Festival, C3 Festival in Germany, MADE Festival in Umeå, Sweden, Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, Ecstatic Music Festival, X-Avant Festival in Toronto, Shakespeare in the Park with the Philip Glass Ensemble, live film score performance at the Whitney Museum and the French Alliance Institute, Chicago's Millenium Park “Dusk Variation” Chamber Series, Imagine Science Festival at Bell House, NY Eye and Ear Festival, and live performances on WNYC's New Sounds and Soundcheck. Lorna Krier has appeared in features in the New York Times, Washington Post, Time Out New York, NPR, Village Voice, Pitchfork, The Fader, Brooklyn Vegan, Chicago Reader, Baltimore Sun, eMusic, Arthur Magazine, Impose Magazine, Tiny Mix Tapes, Matrixsynth, The Daily Contributor, Paste Magazine, and more.https://www.lornadune.com/Lorna Dune - Bandcamp  ANNOUNCING JOURNEY SPACE -***Check out the new platform JourneySpace.com - a space for online live facilitated journeys.  The inaugural event will be a live stream open to anyone on Dec 4th, 2021.  Visit Journeyspace.com for more information. Also. New Music from East Forest! -"Possible" - the latest studio album  from East Forest - LISTEN NOW:Spotify / AppleOrder the album on vinyl - limited edition + check out the new Possible clothing: http://eastforest.org *** Support this free podcast by joining the East Forest COUNCIL on Patreon.  Monthly Zoom Council, Podcast exclusives, private Patreon live-stream ceremony, and more.  Check it out and a great way to support the podcast and directly support the work of East Forest! - http://patreon.com/eastforest *****Please rate Ten Laws w/East Forest on iTunes.  It helps us get the guests you want to hear.  Tour - Catch East Forest LIVE - Pledge your interest in the upcoming East Forest Ceremony Concert events this Spring/Summer 2021.  More info and join us at eastforest.org/tourCommunity - Join the newsletter and be part of the East Forest Community.Meditation - Listen to East Forest guided meditations on Spotify & AppleRam Dass album - Check out the East Forest x Ram Dass album on (Spotify & Apple) + East Forest's Music For Mushrooms: A Soundtrack For The Psychedelic Practitioner 5hr album (Spotify & Apple).Socials -Stay in the East Forest flow:Mothership:  http://eastforest.org/IG:  https://www.instagram.com/eastforest/FB:  https://www.facebook.com/EastForestMusic/TW:  https://twitter.com/eastforestmusicJOIN THE COUNCIL - PATREON: http://patreon.com/eastforest 

In this episode we discuss animism as a strategic form of divinity by which we could develop a renewed sense of care and reverence for the environment. But is 'divinity' still valued? Do we simply need to displace the anthropocentric in order to develop an ecocentric worldview, or is something else required? Hear what we think! Main episode begins at 18:14. If you want to contact us, hit us up at therilkeanzoo[at]gmail.com. Also, find us on Patreon at patreon.com/therilkeanzoo.  Text: Walt Whitman, "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry," Leaves of Grass (New York: Signet Classics, 1960), 144. 

A reading of Walt Whitman's poem "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry." The full text of the poem is here. The best place to find Whitman's poetry online (or anything about him at all) remains the Whitman Archive, and you can find every edition of Leaves of Grass here (as plain text downloads) and here (facsimiles of the original editions). While there are hundreds of editions of Whitman's poetry in print, I prefer the two editions published by the Library of America: the first includes the 1855 and 1892 versions of Leaves of Grass, and the second (and the book I'm reading from here) includes the same, along with a huge selection of Whitman's prose. Any comments, or suggestions for readings I should make in later episodes, can be emailed to humanvoiceswakeus1@gmail.com. I assume that the small amount of work presented in each episode constitutes fair use. Publishers, authors, or other copyright holders who would prefer to not have their work presented here can also email me at humanvoiceswakeus1@gmail.com, and I will remove the episode immediately.

Jennie Fields received an MFA from the Iowa Writers' Workshop and is the author of the novels Lily Beach, Crossing Brooklyn Ferry, The Middle Ages, and The Age of Desire. A Chicago native, Jennie was inspired by her own mother's work as a University of Chicago-trained biochemist in the 1950s for her latest novel, Atomic Love. We had a great chat with Jennie about juggling a day job with being a writer (she was previously a highly successful creative director at various New York ad agencies) and hear about the type of research that she does for her historical fiction novels. We also explore the real-life inspirations behind Atomic Love, and of course find out whether she prefers real books or ebooks (clue: Tariq was very happy with her answer!)Links:Buy Atomic Love and Jennie's other booksVisit Jennie's websiteWatch our video panel Page One Sessions as we discuss writing with great authors: https://youtu.be/gmE6iCDYn-sThe Page One Podcast is brought to you by Write Gear, creators of Page One - the Writer's Notebook. Learn more and order yours now: https://www.writegear.co.uk/page-oneFollow us on Twitter: @write_gearFollow us on Facebook: www.facebook.com/WriteGearUK/Follow us on Instagram: write_gear_uk See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

We started with a single pushcart in Prospect Park in the summer of 2010 and opened our first scoop shop in May of 2011. We were novice entrepreneurs and new parents in search of a neighborhood ice cream shop filled with nostalgia and whimsy and over the top, playful ice cream flavors. We are proud to have founded Ample Hills Creamery; named after a Walt Whitman poem about the connections between people across time and space. What is it then between us? What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? Whatever it is, it avails not--Distance avails not, and place avails not, I too lived, Brooklyn of ample hills was mine. --Walt Whitman, Crossing Brooklyn Ferry 1856

Inspiration is often an assertive act -- simply waiting around for it doesn't guarantee its arrival. Go forth and talk to ghosts. Mentioned in this episode: Concord, Massachusetts; public library; Henry David Thoreau; Sophia Thoreau; Thoreau's "Walking"; Ralph Waldo Emerson; Ticknor & Fields; John Guare; Thornton Wilder; Wilder's "Our Town"; William Wordsworth; Tintern Abbey; Prague; Rilke; Kafka; Glen Ellen, California; Jack London; London's "The Call of the Wild"; American Civil War; Walt Whitman; Whitman's "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry"  Music: "Family" by Josh Leake; "The Art of Loneliness" by ANBR; "La Stanza di Nelson 2" by Bottega Baltazar; "On the Trail" by Cameron Mackay (All music used by courtesy of the artists through a licensing agreement with Artlist) Reprised from the ITA Archives --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/in-the-atelier/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/in-the-atelier/support

Production and Sound Design by Kevin Seamanhttps://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45470/crossing-brooklyn-ferry 

Guest: Mad Mohre Host: Christopher Kardambikis Recorded in Mad’s VW Beetle on March 14th, 2019 in Michigan. Mad Mohre is a mechanically-minded visual artist and designer concerned with play, surveillance, privacy and speculative feminism. She is the founder of Millimetre Press, a residency program housed in a restored Victorian studio for artists curious to explore limited editions through Riso + the artist’s book. Mad has most recently been a resident at The Wassaic Project and Paper Cuts. Her work has been featured in the New York Times, and exhibited nationally at Gallery 128 in NYC, River House Arts Gallery in Toledo, Mildred Lane Kemper Art Museum in St. Louis, and other international venues. Her most recent design projects include work for Serial a podcast by the creators of This American Life, Corte by composer Trevor Gureckis of The Goldfinch, Crossing Brooklyn Ferry at BAM, and sculpted paper works for musician Bryce Desssner of The National. Mad received her BFA from Denison University and MFA from Washington University in St. Louis. She is the co-leader of the College Book Art Association’s Midwest Region and is an Associate Professor of Art at Siena Heights University in Adrian, Michigan. www.madmohre.com --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/paper-cuts/support

On Belonging with Professor Richard Larshan What do we mean by “belonging”? And is there any difference between the accompanying prepositions “to” or “with”? Discussing Walt Whitman’s “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” Adolf Loos’s “Poor Little Rich Man,” and William Faulkner’s “A Rose for Emily” can provide better understanding of both the works themselves and of their larger implications: Belonging as a sense of oneness with others and the universe? Belonging as ownership of property? Belonging as a form of control against the threatening abyss? To have and to have not. Richard Larschan is an English Professor Emeritus at the University of Massachusetts-Dartmouth. He earned his PhD from UC Berkeley with a dissertation on Jonathan Swift. His academic honors include two Fulbrights and four NEH summer grants. His publications include a critical introduction to "GULLIVER’S TRAVELS" and a co-authored book for cancer patients, along with various scholarly articles. He has also written and produced two videos about Sylvia Plath, was featured in a televised biography of Plath, and is cited in a half-dozen scholarly books on Plath.

On Belonging with Professor Richard Larshan What do we mean by “belonging”? And is there any difference between the accompanying prepositions “to” or “with”? Discussing Walt Whitman’s “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” Adolf Loos’s “Poor Little Rich Man,” and William Faulkner’s “A Rose for Emily” can provide better understanding of both the works themselves and of their larger implications: Belonging as a sense of oneness with others and the universe? Belonging as ownership of property? Belonging as a form of control against the threatening abyss? To have and to have not. Richard Larschan is an English Professor Emeritus at the University of Massachusetts-Dartmouth. He earned his PhD from UC Berkeley with a dissertation on Jonathan Swift. His academic honors include two Fulbrights and four NEH summer grants. His publications include a critical introduction to "GULLIVER’S TRAVELS" and a co-authored book for cancer patients, along with various scholarly articles. He has also written and produced 2 videos about Sylvia Plath, was featured in a televised biography of Plath, and is cited in a half-dozen scholarly books on Plath.

This week, watch a young woman embrace her wan and luminous super powers and enjoy a bit of a formal hello to Prose's new home base with one Mr. Walter Whitman.   *** Subscribe via Apple Podcasts. Subscribe via Google Play. Support via Patreon Subscribe via Stitcher. Subscribe via RSS Feed. Follow on Instagram. Follow on Twitter. Like and Follow on Facebook. Visit the Official Prose Website

In this episode, we will be reading and discussing "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" by Walt Whitman. Also, there will be a discussion of intertextuality, which just a fancy word for how two texts interact with one another.

Ample Hills Creamery owners Jackie Cuscuna and Brian Smith tell their story of grappling with success so overwhelming that they were afraid it would cost them their business before it even got off the ground. In this episode of Rally, a podcast about business leaders facing failure and bouncing back, we hear about how neglecting to plan for success led Ample Hills Creamery to close its doors just a few days after opening in 2011. Ample Hills opened in Brooklyn, New York, with ambitions of being a “small, little neighborhood ice cream shop.” Following a career in screenwriting and radio dramas, Brian hungered for a new medium to tell stories. As a lifelong ice cream lover, he and his wife decided to open an ice cream parlor where families could hang out and enjoy community. When Ample Hills opened just before Memorial Day weekend in 2011, the couple was blown away with the crowds swarming their shop. Within the first few days of being open, they realized that they’d drastically underestimated how much ice cream they would sell. The store closed four days after opening so Jackie and Brian could hire more staff, make ice cream and prepare for how to handle so many customers. The couple had poured all of their money into opening Ample Hills and worried about what would happen when their re-opened. Would people come back? Business reporter and Rally host Macaela J. Bennett has spent a year collecting these stories of hardship and missteps in people’s careers to share with listeners inspiring examples of overcoming obstacles. Follow Rally_Podcast: Twitter | Facebook | Instagram Email: Rally@CTpost.com Media: Sweet Emotional Piano String Instrumental Midtempo by Jason Garner A segment of “Room with a view” by Jahzzar is licensed under CC BY 3.0 The Golden Hour by Larry Bryant Alien Express, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1XEo4yZ59o You Inspire Me by Aaron Stepanik Ample Hills prepares to open, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1XEo4yZ59o Don't Leave Me by Marcin Gasiewicz My Dreams Come True by Marcin Gasiewicz Modern Inspiring Acoustic by Seastock Links: Learn more about Ample Hills +https://www.amplehills.com/pages/about +“So Successful, a New Ice Cream Shop Closes After 4 Days” https://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/06/02/so-successful-a-new-ice-cream-shop-closes-after-4-days/ + “Bullish invests in ‘Star Wars’ ice cream” https://www.greenwichtime.com/business/article/Greenwich-firm-invests-in-Star-Wars-ice-12425328.php + “Ample Hills Creamery raises $8 mln Series A led by Rosecliff Ventures” https://www.pehub.com/2017/12/ample-hills-creamery-raises-8-mln-series-a-led-by-rosecliff-ventures/ + “The Ice Cream Oprah Fell in Love With and 13 More Delicious Hostess Gifts” http://www.oprah.com/gift/ample-hills-ice-cream?editors_pick_id=58475 Special thanks to Hearst Connecticut Media reporter Justin Papp for his reading of Crossing Brooklyn Ferry by Walt Whitman.

This week on StoryWeb: Langston Hughes’s poem “Theme for English B.” Oh, how I love this poem! It packs so much into a short space. Published on its own in 1949, it was included in Langston Hughes’s 1951 collection, Montage of a Dream Deferred. Though it gains more resonance when taken with the entire collection of Hughes’s bebop poetry, it also stands successfully on its own. In “Theme for English B,” Hughes imagines a 22-year-old black student—a transplant from North Carolina – living at the Harlem Y and going to college. He is the only “colored” student in his class at Columbia University, where Hughes himself had been a less-than-satisfied student in the 1920s. In the poem, Hughes plays with the idea of using writing – words on paper – as a tool to bridge racial, social, class, and educational differences. Through the “theme” the young man is writing, his professor – white and well educated – has the opportunity to learn from his black, yet-to-be-fully-“educated” student. Like so many other writing teachers, the professor tells his students to write what they know. He says: Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you – Then, it will be true. The student goes back to his room at the Y and writes his essay, naming things he likes, including music: “Bessie, bop, or Bach.” Being black doesn’t mean he doesn’t like Bach, but there’s a hint here that he may have even greater access to cultural experiences than the white professor, for the student has his foots in two worlds – the white university and Harlem. Though they are located right next to each other, they are nevertheless worlds apart. Or are they worlds apart? Hughes’s poem seems to hold out the promise that through words on the page, the student and his professor can bridge the cultural, social, economic, perhaps even the racial chasm that would seem on the surface to separate them. Reflecting on his passions, the things that shape his identity, the student writes: I guess being colored doesn’t make me not like the same things other folks like who are other races. So will my page be colored that I write? Being me, it will not be white. I especially love that Hughes seems to have Walt Whitman in mind. Just as Whitman imagined speaking to readers across time through his words on the page (in poems like “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”), so, too, Hughes imagines written language as a vehicle to bridge gaps and allow us to learn about the seemingly unknowable “other.” The student says: I guess I’m what I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you: hear you, hear me – we two – you, me, talk on this page. (I hear New York, too.) In some ways, as this student constructs a fledgling understanding of himself, as he imagines his identity into existence, the poem is an African American answer to Whitman’s “Song of Myself” – the young black student “singing” his experiences. He makes clear that he and the professor are both American. The student says: You are white – yet a part of me, as I am a part of you. That’s American. Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me. Nor do I often want to be a part of you. But we are, that’s true! For ideas on teaching “Theme for English B” within the context of bebop music, an insurgent African American form of urban jazz, see Eric Otto’s fine article in Teaching American Literature. And to explore many other resources related to Hughes and his poetry, visit the StoryWeb episode on Montage of a Dream Deferred, the collection in which “Theme for English B” appears. Visit thestoryweb.com/theme for links to all these resources and to listen as Atlanta playwright Jermaine Ross reads Langston Hughes’s poem “Theme for English B.”

Since reading All the dead boys look like me, a poem for Orlando by Christopher Soto (aka Loma), I've understood the tragedy that happened there in an entirely new way. I've also been thinking about Walt Whitman's all-encompassing poem Crossing Brooklyn Ferry – a poem that seems to have no boundaries. If you like the sound … Continue reading "Ep. 9 Loma writes for Orlando, Whitman speaks through time"

During the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge, poet Walt Whitman declared it “the grandest physical habitat and surroundings of land and water the globe affords." His poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” is celebrated by poetry lovers every year in an event in which they cross the Brooklyn Bridge reading poems about the bridge and city. So many poets, like Jack Kerouac and Frank O’Hara have drawn inspiration from New York City. And the city continues to be a literary muse for poets today. On this week's Cityscape, we're tapping into New York City's poetry community -- past and present.

The Brooklyn Bridge was 125 years old this weekend. To celebrate, I talk about and read Walt Whitman's masterpiece, Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.