The babes I beget upon you are to beget babes in their turn
--"A Woman Waits for Me"
As alluded to yesterday, here is your painting of Walt Whitman--shown here floating in the sky on account of his deadness--giving birth to himself in duplicate. I wish I could have made it triplicate, but I was frankly exhausted. I wish also that I was able to show this duplicate birth taking place on the composite face of my readership, as the line itself dictates, but some things are perhaps better left to the imagination.