April's poetry attempt, Emily Dickinson, fell by the wayside as I was very distracted by warm weather and gardening in May and couldn't get myself into the right mood for her angsty poetry. So instead I went with Walt Whitman, whose Leaves of Grass I had to read in school, but whose work I have never attempted as an adult. I'd still like to find the time to re-read Leaves of Grass, but this month I focused on Song of Myself and some later poems. I still don't feel like I have much of a grasp on him as an author because he was a novelist, essayist, and journalist, as well as a poet. Even if my exploration of his work is comparatively shallow, I did really enjoy what I read this month, possibly more than any other volume of poetry I've read so far this year...