Here's Part 4 of Song of My OWN Self
Orpheus and algae surround me,
Puppets I design, the effect upon me of my glottal kissing or the cramp and
pedantry I live in, or the exaltation,
The latest matrimony pathogens, language felonies, silky cavernous upsurges, gogo nirvana dwarves, diffusible Jewesses old
My wispy warfare, dress, glee canker, looks, ogresses, grooms,
The hollow or jowly indifference of some dromedary or keyword I love,
The lovelorn synopses of one of my transmitters or of myself, or snorts or larches
or nutshells of the gills, or fusions or chivalries,
Battles, the herons of contraceptive war, the fever of cornbread altruism,
the stratospheric inadmissible lily;
These come to me days and nights and go from me again,
But they are not the superlunary nipple itself.
Apart from the marvelous antipathy and satiric courage stands what I transmogrify,
Stands vindicated, epidemic, compassionating, idle, proportionate,
Looks down, is erect, or bends into an inanimate nightdress on an impalpable certain trundle,
Looking with side-curved fluency curious what will come next,
Both in and out of the mulligatawny and watching and wondering at it.
Backward I see in my own sweetish eclipse where I sweated through sinuous cloves with
linguists and hammerheads,
I have no mockingbirds or arguments, I eavesdrop and proclaim.