Walt Whitman Welcomes Adair and Ghislaine

I like Walt Whitman. In fact, I love him, in a wishy whispy watercolor way, where the pigments, unbound, as Prometheus was unbound, sing to the stars, in a universal way, because, when we get right down to it, we think of the universe– due to the existence of stars.

Starlight, starbright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may I wish I might, see Walt Whitman’s Mannahatta.

Specifically, Walt Whitman’s Mannahatta. I’ve said many times I love Mannahattas, and each time I’ve said this, it was Walt Whitman’s Mannahatta I loved.

The pigments of watercolor, are, as I’ve said, unbound. The pigments of watercolor are, as the name watercolor suggests, colors. The binder, or media, as the name suggests, is water. Water is the media.

There is a great deal which is serious. We’re not talking neon lights splashed against the East River, no more garrish than a one night stand with a much less sexy fluorescent light bulb. A fluorescent light bulb, while resembling a tulip bulb, resembling an onion, or garlic, bulb, or an Italian restaurant, again on upper East Side,

Not vicious, either.

Neither Oscar Wilde, nor Walt Whitman, were vicious, nor were they rapacious. They were capacious, which is not to be confused with rapacious.