Walt Whitman was wandering around in Manhattas. He had no idea he was wandering, but did notice his heart was expansive, and if that was because he was wandering, and wandering in Manhattas, that was smart.
Walt didn’t have change jingling in his pocket. Sometimes his erection would jingle in his pocket, a rocket in his pocket, a precursor, or pre-sentiment, or presage, of sage, for Walt was a sage, hearing the aboriginal moan, groan, and sing a song, Man your Hat is Flat, Flat is a Swat, as a let it go long, as Rapunzel, rap flat dimple th e dawn,
Spam of Human Affection 
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