One of the fringe benefits of doing out-of-town shows is that I sometimes get to “vacation” around in my off-time. Already day-dreaming about spending a few weeks in the mountains next summer. This will be my fourth summer trucking around the state, and my third summer that includes art shows.
And since in my head, everything ought to be a poem, here’s the first verse from one of my favorite poems, Song of the Open Road, by Walt Whitman:
AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune—I myself am good fortune;
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Strong and content, I travel the open road.
The earth—that is sufficient;
I do not want the constellations any nearer;
I know they are very well where they are;
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;
I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)
Read the rest of Song of the Open Road on Bartlby.com.