1861 by Walt Whitman

Ready or not
here we go
no time for sentimental love poems
the pale moon is setting
on the cadenza

You may be strong
with your blue clothed rifle
right or wrong
no trifle
knife-hold
belt-buckle
knees-muttering gosh its cold out here

shout sonorously
masculinity?

Mahattan manhood
man-made his way
through the prairies of Illinois
and Indiana
across the Alleghanies
the sprightly seasonal
PA and O-Hi-O-My
to see the countryside
on such
terminologos Chattanooga choo-choo
breakfast tea and toast

Sinewy lamb stuck teeth-between
I’d come again
but I need my verility
canoe or cannon ball
either way I entreat
what a sad sad moment
sucking on bitter-sweet