Jonathan Ned Katz: "Comrades and Lovers," Act I
ENTRY IN CONSTRUCTION
Jonathan Ned Katz: "Comrades and Lovers"
- ACT I, SCENE 1
- [LIGHTS OFF; WHITMAN'S FIRST WORDS ARE HEARD IN THE DARK.]
WHITMAN: Love thoughts
SPEAKER 1: love-juice,
SPEAKER 2: love-odor,
SPEAKER 3: love-yielding,
SPEAKER 4: love-climbers,
WHITMAN: and the climbing sap,
SPEAKER 1: arms and hands of love,
SPEAKER 2: lips of love,
SPEAKER 3: phallic thumb of love,
SPEAKER 4: breasts of love,
WHITMAN: bellies pressed and glued together with love.
- [LIGHTS ON, NIGHT.
- SCENE TITLE, PROJECTED OR PRINTED ON PLACARD:
- 1 Walt Whitman, "Love-thoughts"
- WHITMAN AND A "BOY" MOVE CLOSE TOGETHER, ADDRESS EACH OTHER.]
BOY: The wet of woods through the early hours.
WHITMAN: Two sleepers at night lying close together as they sleep,
BOY: One with an arm slanting down across and below the waist of the other.
WHITMAN: The smell of apples,
BOY: aromas from crushed sage plant,
WHITMAN: mint,
BOY: birch bark.
WHITMAN: The boy's longings, the glow and pressure as he confides to me what he was dreaming.
BOY: The dead leaf tallings its spiral whirl, falling still and content to the ground.
WHITMAN: The sensitive, orbic, underlapped brothers, that only privileged feelers may be intimate where they are.
BOY: The mystic amorous night.
WHITMAN: The curious roamer the hand, roaming allover the body,
BOY: the bashful withdrawing of flesh where the fingers soothingly pause and edge themselves.
WHITMAN: The limpid liquid within the young man,
BOY: the vex'd corrosion so pensive and painful,
WHITMAN: the torment,
BOY: the irritable tide that will not be at rest,
WHITMAN: the like of the same I feel, the like of the same in others.
- [SCENE TITLE: 2 Rufus Griswold, "Once licentiousness"
- RESPONDING TO THE EARLIER VERSE, GRISWOLD APPEARS WITH LEAVES OF GRASS, SPEAKS TO WHITMAN.]
GRISWOLD: Once licentiousness
- shunned the light;
- now it writes books
- showing how grand and pure it is,
- and prophecies
- its own ultimate triumph.
- [TO AUDIENCE, HOLDING UP LEAVES OF GRASS]
- It is impossible to imagine
- how any man's fancy
- could have conceived
- such a mass of stupid filth.
- We leave this gathering of muck
- to the laws
- which have power to suppress
- such gross obscenity.
- [FIRE AND BR1MSTONE PROPHECY]
- "Peccatum illud horribile,
- inter Christianos non nominandum."
- [WHISPERS TO WHITMAN]
- (That vile sin among Christians not to be named.)
- [WHITMAN AND SPEAKERS RESPOND TO GRISWOLD.
- SCENE TITLE: 3 Walt Whitman, "Through me"]
WHITMAN: Through me many long dumb voices,
SPEAKER 1: voices of the interminable generations of slaves,
SPEAKER 2: voices of prostitutes and deformed persons,
SPEAKER 3: voices of the diseased and despairing,
SPEAKER 4: voices of wombs and the fatherstuff,
SPEAKER 1: voices of the rights of them the others are down upon.
WHITMAN: Through me forbidden voices,
SPEAKER 2: voices of sexes and lusts,
SPEAKER 3: voices veiled and I remove the veil,
SPEAKER 4: voices indecent by me clarified and transfigured.
WHITMAN: I do not press my finger across my mouth!
SPEAKER 1: keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart,
SPEAKER 2: copulation is no more rank to me than death is.
SPEAKER 3: I believe in the flesh and the appetites,
SPEAKER 4: seeing, hearing, and feeling are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
WHITMAN: [TO BRONSON ALCOTT AND HENRY DAVID THOREAU, WHO APPEAR IN THE NEXT SCENE]
- If I worship any particular thing
- it shall be some of the spread of my body;
SPEAKER 1: You my rich blood, your milky stream pale strippings of my life;
SPEAKER 2: Breast that presses against other breasts it shall be you,
SPEAKER 3: Root of washed sweet-flag,
- timorous pond-snipe,
- nest of guarded duplicate eggs,
- it shall be you,
SPEAKER 4: Mixed tussled hay of head and beard and brawn it shall be you,
WHITMAN: Trickling sap of maple, fibre of manly wheat, it shall be. you;
SPEAKER 1: Winds whose soft-tickling genitals rub against me it shall be you,
SPEAKER 2: Broad muscular fields,
SPEAKER 3: branches of liveoak,
SPEAKER 4: loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you,
WHITMAN: Hands I have taken, face I have kissed, mortal I have ever touched, it shall be you.
- [ALCOTT AND HENRY DAVID THOREAU RESPOND TO WHITMAN
- SCENE TITLE: 4 Bronson Alcott: "This morning with Henry David Thoreau"
- ALCOTT ADDRESSES AUDIENCE; THOREAU ACCOMPANIES HIM, FOCUSING ON WHITMAN]
ALCOTT: This morning
- with Henry David Thoreau to Brooklyn,
- to see Walt Whitman.
- I find this Whitman
- likely to make his mark on Young America he affirming himself
- to be its representative man and poet.
[WHITMAN AND THOREAU EYE EACH OTHER SUSPICIOUSLY; ALCOTT OBSERVES]
- Thoreau and Whitman
- each seemed planted fast in reserve,