Let's kill Walt Whitman

Let's kill Walt Whitman,
and the leaves and the grass,
he's dead I'm here.
e.e. cummings, Ezra Pound,
burn their books and spit on their graves.
Conquer the world by fire not ice.
Nothing will suffice,
no need to stop here and watch the snow,
break the rules rip off your albatross.
We are here now, entertain us.

HE SCREAMED AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS
without a glass of water