Verse III

I can taste the blood of your wine
and the wine of your words intoxicates me,
oh Walt Whitman,
dance with me upon this blank page and
let's do the Charleston or tech-step if you so choose,
dance with me through discos and dance clubs,
through raves and rainbow gatherings,
you gather my soul,
I gather my wits,
and you bring me back to god
and god lifts me up off of the ground
and tells me that he’s always been there,
his white hair flowing from his face
like Michaelangelo or Davincci,
I long to see pictures of Italy in the spring,
I long to walk upon the ruined temples
of Apollo and Aphrodite and
sing the songs of their sweet devotion.

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