I depart as air . . . I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,
I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it in lacy jags
I bequeathe myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop some where waiting for you.
These are the last lines of the poem “Song of Myself” from Leaves of Grass, published by Walt Whitman in 1855.
Accordion fold book is printed two sides on Arches Text Wove paper and wrapped in an indigo heavy Cave paper cover tied with a sheer ribbon. Second printing of an open edition, this printing is limited to 27 copies.
Created by Cari Ferraro, 2011