More Walt

Here's a poem I wrote in response to Walt Whitman's "One's-self I Sing"

"Old Walt"
Your words etched in the rock, breaking the water.
Still there, forever, greeting me as I sing.

Your words etched by a different hand, my fingers in the cracks:

Of democracy I sing.
Of working men, with their tired lives and broken eyes.
Their flat words, empty, they sing.

Reverberate off pale walls. Sing them your songs.

Of dignity and value I sing, and all are equal.
Of lonliness and dead ideals,
Shattered love I sing.

Oh, my tongue is not worthy of the Muse!

Of Postmodern Man I sing, and my voice cracks with the sound.

What drew you to the particular poems that you posted? What is your interpretation of them?