Lumpy pudding

Judging a poem is like judging a pudding or a machine. One demands that it work. Poetry succeeds because all or most of what is said or implied is relevant; what is irrelevant has been excluded, like lumps from pudding and 'bugs' from machinery. (Wimsatt & Beardsley)

Here we celebrate the excluded, lumpy parts of the pudding!

May 31, 2009 10:55pm

Walt Whitman, from the 1867 Leaves of Grass:

~~~~~~

As Adam, early in the morning,

Walking forth from the bower, refresh’d with sleep;

Behold me where I pass—hear my voice—approach,

Touch me—touch the palm of your hand to my Body
         as I pass;

Be not afraid of my Body.

(Photo by William Kurtz)