“Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you
That you may be my poem,
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.”
– Walt Whitman, from “To You” in Leaves of Grass
Words for the Year
“My mother is a poem I’ll never be able to write, though everything I write is a poem to my mother.” ~ Sharon Doubiago
