Tootfinder

Calamus 18 City of my walks and joys!
A celebration of Manhattan. I love Whitman's embrace of cities as being just as vital as nature unspoiled. It reflects the humanist aspect of his joy in the world, not a Thoreau-like rejection of civilization.
I also love that Whitman is writing about cruising the streets, making eye contact with potential lovers, celebrating offerings of love.
as I pass, O Manhattan! your frequent and swift flash of eyes offering me love
Offering me the response of my own—these repay me,
Lovers, continual lovers, only repay me.
Whitman punched up the first line in later editions, escalating to "City of orgies, walks and joys!"

»Gefährdungsstufe ALPHA« Heute zu Besuch in der Großbaustelle eines Luftwaffengeschwaders in Wittmund. #ostfriesland

Speaking of "Adhesiveness" in 1960 David Hockney made a painting titled Adhesiveness. Which arguably depicts Walt Whitman fucking David Hockney, the labels 23 23 and 4 8 being a basic numeric code. Along with We Two Boys Together Clinging these two early works are Hockney referencing Whitman and being explicit about being gay. More info in this article and this one.

Calamus 19 Mind you the timid models of the rest, the majority?
A declaration of intellectual independence and a celebration of brotherly love. Honestly this poem feels a little clumsy to me, I can see why Whitman struck the awkward introducing lines in later editions.
As always, looking for the gay content:
Yet comes one, a Manhattanese, and ever at parting, kisses me lightly on the lips with robust love.
And I, in the public room, or on the crossing of the street, or on the ship's deck, kiss him in return
We observe that salute of American comrades
But I can't in all honestly read this use of "kissing" as erotic. Here the public kissing and the "salute of comrades" makes me think it's more of a fraternal kiss.
Which doesn't exclude a romantic kiss as well, or an erotic one. What's so vital about Calamus is how Whitman blends masculine sexual love with the love of comrades. I think both meanings are latent in every poem.

Bridging Cache-Friendliness and Concurrency: A Locality-Optimized In-Memory B-Skiplist
Yicong Luo, Senhe Hao, Brian Wheatman, Prashant Pandey, Helen Xu
https://arxiv.org/abs/2507.21492

Bridging Cache-Friendliness and Concurrency: A Locality-Optimized In-Memory B-Skiplist
Skiplists are widely used for in-memory indexing in many key-value stores, such as RocksDB and LevelDB, due to their ease of implementation and simple concurrency control mechanisms. However, traditional skiplists suffer from poor cache locality, as they store only a single element per node, leaving performance on the table. Minimizing last-level cache misses is key to maximizing in-memory index performance, making high cache locality essential. In this paper, we present a practical concurrent …

Calamus 16 Who is now reading this?
A funny little poem, omitted in later editions. On the surface it's a challenge to the reader and a chance for Whitman to establish himself as self-aware. Claiming his own flaws.
But the text drips with some latent queer meaning
as if I do not secretly love strangers!
(O tenderly, a long time, and never avow it ;)
A secret love that you can never avow? Hello! At least it's tenderly and a long time.
This seems as good a time as any to link Whitman's Boys, a good recent piece considering Whitman as a queer man and what that means to us in current times. It's a nice overview of some queer theory and is even-handed.

Calamus 17 Of him I love day and night
A disturbing poem about death, the death of a lover, the death of a city, the death of the poet. And Whitman's own dismissal of death, or at least of memorializing it.
Reading this as someone who grew up in the 80s, I can only read this in reflection on the AIDS crisis. Of my own community's deaths.
And I found that every place was a burial-place,
The houses full of life were equally full of death
The poem doesn't offer any solace in this reading. It is just a marker of death and being exposed to so much death that we are inured to it.

Calamus 45 Full of life, sweet-blooded, compact, visible
A remarkably effective poem for the end of the cluster. Whitman talking directly to us, the reader, about the import of his poems. And with some ambition: "To one a century hence, or any number of centuries hence".
But even better, he's horny for us:
Now it is you ... seeking me,
Fancying how happy you were, if I could be with you, and become your lover
The poet is imagining us, his future readers, thinking about how we will want to be his lover. What a lusty man! Whitman is not modest.
I love it. And it's a fitting end to this series. I've greatly enjoyed reading them. Over the past 45 days I've learned better how to read Whitman, to understand his poems. And to relate to them in at least one simple way, teasing out the gayest and sexiest parts of these poems. Making them fun for myself.
I'm not quite done yet. I hope to identify my favorites of the group. I may also try my hand at reading one or two aloud.

Calamus 15 O drops of me!
It's a remarkably morbid poem for Whitman, literally about blood dropping from wounds, corrupting his poetry.
stain every song I sing, every word I say, bloody drops
But he turns this blood into a sort of virtue that infuses his poem, starting with an inversion. It's not "saturate yourself with the drops". Instead it's saturate them with yourself.
Saturate them with yourself, all ashamed and wet,
Glow upon all I have written or shall write, bleeding drops,
Let it all be seen in your light, blushing drops.
I can make a case for a queer reading of recognizing gay shame and overcoming it. To take the stigma of homosexuality and turn it into a virtue, "let it all be seen in your light".
But I think I may be out on a limb with that interpretation. Whitman's not typically a writer about shame. And I think "gay shame" doesn't apply well as a concept in the 1850s, that's a malady that comes with a backlash against modern gay identity.

Calamus 42 To the young man
A short poem but very hot, dripping with latent queer meaning. Or pederasty, if I'm being honest.
The poem is literally Whitman offering to teach a young man. "To absorb, to engraft, to develop". And "to help him become élève", a fancy French word for student, and the choice there certainly raises an eyebrow.
But then what qualifications does this student require? Here, in the negation:
If he be not silently selected by lovers, and do not silently select lovers
That's not the usual test scores and sports achievements! Instead Whitman seems to have a specific extracurricular activity in mind. (And note the "select" directly echoes the "picking me out" in the previous poem.)
This poem becomes particularly bold when understanding it as Whitman speaking directly to the reader. Perhaps a young man that Whitman can take under his wing.
I'm being a bit silly but this kind of mentorship has a long, sexy gay history.