Song of Myself. Won't you help support Day. Poems? 1. 81. 9- 1. I celebrate myself, and sing myself. And what I assume you shall assume.

· (CNN)There are 2,325 billionaires in the world, according to the Wealth-X and UBS Billionaire Census 2014, and just over 12% of them are women. With a. 1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul.

I’ve known about Hoonigan Racing, Ken Block’s motorsport team that competes in FIA World Rallycross as a Ford factory backed team. I even saw them compete at. With Tesla purportedly gearing up to introduce an all-electric semi next month, diesel engine supplier Cummins took some of the automaker’s buzz away on Tuesday. Sometimes, there aren’t any good answers. Today, NFL officials announced that they had decided to suspend a player accused of domestic violence for six games: The.

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul. I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form'd from this soil, this air.

Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their. I, now thirty- seven years old in perfect health begin. Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance. Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten. I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard. Nature without check with original energy.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with. I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it. The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the.

It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it. I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked. I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

The smoke of my own breath. Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love- root, silk- thread, crotch and vine.

My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing. The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and. The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of. A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms. The play of shine and shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag.

The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields. The feeling of health, the full- noon trill, the song of me rising. Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? Have you practis'd so long to learn to read? Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of. You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions.

You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through. You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me. You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self. I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the. But I do not talk of the beginning or the end. There was never any more inception than there is now. Nor any more youth or age than there is now.

And will never be any more perfection than there is now. Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now. Urge and urge and urge. Always the procreant urge of the world.

Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance and. Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. To elaborate is no avail, learn'd and unlearn'd feel that it is so. Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well.

Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical. I and this mystery here we stand.

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen.

Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn. Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age. Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they. I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.

Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean. Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be.

I am satisfied- -I see, dance, laugh, sing. As the hugging and loving bed- fellow sleeps at my side through the night. Leaving me baskets cover'd with white towels swelling the house with.

Shall I postpone my acceptation and realization and scream at my eyes. That they turn from gazing after and down the road.

And forthwith cipher and show me to a cent. Exactly the value of one and exactly the value of two, and which is ahead? Trippers and askers surround me. People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and. I live in, or the nation.

The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new. My dinner, dress, associates, looks, compliments, dues. The real or fancied indifference of some man or woman I love. The sickness of one of my folks or of myself, or ill- doing or loss. Battles, the horrors of fratricidal war, the fever of doubtful news. These come to me days and nights and go from me again. But they are not the Me myself.

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am. Watch Boy Toy Putlocker more. Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary.

Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest. Looking with side- curved head curious what will come next. Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it. Backward I see in my own days where I sweated through fog with. I have no mockings or arguments, I witness and wait. I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you. And you must not be abased to the other.

Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat. Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not. Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice. I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning. How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me. And parted the shirt from my bosom- bone, and plunged your tongue.

And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet. Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass. And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own. And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own. And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women.

And that a kelson of the creation is love. And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields. And brown ants in the little wells beneath them.

And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap'd stones, elder, mullein and. A child said What is the grass? How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green. Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord.

A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt. Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see. Whose? Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation. Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic. And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones. Growing among black folks as among white.

Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I. And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves. Tenderly will I use you curling grass.

It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men. It may be if I had known them I would have loved them. It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out. And here you are the mothers' laps. This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers. Darker than the colorless beards of old men. Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues. And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing. I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women. And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken.

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The smallest sprout shows there is really no death. And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the.

And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses. And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier. Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

I pass death with the dying and birth with the new- wash'd babe, and. And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good. The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good. I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth. I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and. They do not know how immortal, but I know.).

The NFL Is Still Just Making It Up As It Goes Along. Sometimes, there aren’t any good answers. Today, NFL officials announced that they had decided to suspend a player accused of domestic violence for six games: The same penalty they promised years ago, and then went about ignoring as they saw fit. This seemed to make people quite happy, which was all the people who run the NFL ever care about. They want to keep fans happy so they’ll keep spending, and such subsidiary aims as keeping the football press happy, or at least impressed with their strength, mainly serve to further that principal aim. But the six- game suspension doesn’t address why the NFL was able to throw the book at Ezekiel Elliott, at least unless it gets reduced on appeal: They had a highly cooperative witness, which seemed to matter more than in previous cases when they held piles of evidence and still doled out measly suspensions. Is what happened to Tiffany Thompson six times worse than what happened to Molly Brown?

Three times as bad as what happened to Janay Rice? There is no way to escape the message sent here to victims. Play our game and we’ll throw the book at a player; ignore us and we’ll blame you. This dynamic can be seen playing out in the letter that the NFL sent to Elliott explaining his punishment, a league press call about the suspension, and the usual anonymous sources feeding NFL beat writers. For example, the league memo at no point discusses an affidavit signed by a witness, Ayrin Mason, in which she said Thompson, Elliott’s ex- girlfriend, asked her to lie and say she saw Elliott attack her.

Mason also gave prosecutors text messages, which later were released under Ohio’s public records law, which could be seen as supporting her statement. One of the NFL’s advisors on the case, former New Jersey attorney general Pete Harvey, who now is in private practice, alluded to that in a conference call with reporters, per the league- released transcript. One problem, he said, was that Elliott’s witnesses did not cooperate with them. Harvey told reporters that the people who offered affidavits to Columbus prosecutors “declined to be interviewed by the NFL’s investigators, which raised suspicions in our minds about the veracity of these witnesses.” (This being the NFL, and someone perhaps realizing that wasn’t the best thing to have said, an anonymous source told the Washington Postthe exact opposite, saying, “The issue of cooperation or lack thereof was not considered.”)A reporter pressed Harvey specifically on Mason’s statement and text messages. He responded by saying that, yes, Thompson had asked Mason to lie that night, but that they believed she was telling the truth when she had told them and investigators about the other times she said Elliott had hurt her. Watch New Police Story Online Etonline. He pointed to principal city attorney Robert Tobias’s statement to USA Today, in which he said “I personally believe that there were a series of interactions between Mr.

Elliott and (his accuser) where violence occurred. However, given the totality of the circumstances, I could not firmly conclude exactly what happened.” And Harvey threw in another observation: “For example, it’s uncommon for women to take photographs of their injuries the day that they occurred. Thompson] did that.”Harvey and NFL public- relations chief Joe Lockhart—a former White House press secretary—also talked several times about metadata. They said they had the metadata which showed what days the photos were taken, which lined up with when Thompson said Elliott hurt her, and that people saw her on that day confirmed they saw her injuries. Thompson shared those photos with people and then “had a conversation with at least one of these persons about the injury and who caused it,” Harvey said. At one point, they make sure to point out that they had the metadata and prosecutors didn’t, a mostly empty piece of chest- thumping considering that months earlier they were begging the same prosecutors to do them favors and share nonpublic documents and information (and also considering that acquiring metadata does not necessarily take savvy, sophistication, and high- tech tools). Several times in the letter and in the press conference, the NFL honchos emphasized how much evidence they had and that Thompson cooperated.

But I can’t escape the nagging question of what would have happened if she hadn’t. Would they have blamed her, as they did with Molly Brown and Nicole Holder and Janay Rice? If there is an eerie repetition to all this, it’s that whoever doesn’t cooperate gets the NFL’s scorn—it’s just this time that person is the player himself, which perhaps explains why the NFL took a shot at the players’ union, blaming them for the delay in their announcement of Elliott’s punishment. Buried at the bottom of the NFL’s memo, though, is perhaps the most telling part of all. Elliott might have to undergo counseling .. Is there a counterargument to all this? Yes. The NFL is an employer and it can do whatever it damn well wants with it employees, as long as it stays within the lines of the relevant law and collectively- bargained agreements with the players’ union.

It was the NFL owners and Goodell, though, who set themselves up for scrutiny by insisting, over and over, they would get this right, bringing in the best and most qualified independent experts and building clear, consistent standards and fair, transparent processes. And yet, in looking over case after case, it is clear that they are continuing to just make it up as they go along. The fact that just making it up has for once brought them down on the side of the accuser and not the accused doesn’t make it any better. When Molly Brown refused to cooperate with NFL investigators—for very good reasons—the league fed reporters stories about how it had discovered that domestic violence was complicated and difficult to adjudicate. Its officials openly talked to Jane Mc. Manus about ignoring the six- game rule, and ESPN reported these numbers at the time: Since the six- game suspension language was added to the personal conduct policy, there have been nine NFL suspensions potentially related to domestic violence. In all but two of those cases, the league has upheld suspensions that have been fewer than six games, according to ESPN Stats & Information.

This time, the NFL had a cooperative witness and a player and team owner who all but told them to go to hell. And that, it seems, made things suddenly crystal clear. To every appearance, what matters to the NFL is that this decision makes Goodell look strong. Cooperate with him or you’ll get screwed.

If the suspension is reduced on appeal—which is highly likely—Goodell will blame the union again, continuing the owners’ quest to make the only advocate for players completely irrelevant. If it doesn’t, all the better. Most importantly, everyone can feel better about having Elliott on their fantasy football teams in a few weeks, and everyone can rest assured that the NFL is against domestic violence. There will be fireworks, cheerleaders, and fans forking out money while telling themselves that the NFL is a safe and orderly place, quite unlike the real world from which it provides a respite, run by wise leaders who stand tall. In the world of NFL discipline, that’s all that matters, and all that ever has.