A Case for Crane

Well...so the travelblog didn't work out that well. Not only did I not have much if any readership, but I neglected to keep it going. I do, however, have some more pictures of the house that I intend to post at some point.

I also intend to gloat mightily about winning not one but both of my fantasy football leagues this year, ending years of frustration.

And I'm currently wallowing in tangled thoughts of the draw of "real" music...loose, dirty, organic music. But those thoughts still need a bit of sorting out.

And, besides, tonight is Wednesday. And Wednesday means lit night.

About a decade ago, I wrote a paper for a high school English class about the poetry of Stephen Crane. I can't remember how I became familiar with his poetry, but I remember trying to expose as many to it as possible. I remember sharing his work with a friend and poet I've long since lost contact with. And I remember posting works of his as away messages and such over the years.

And yet, its been forever since I've read any. Hell, I don't even own the book I gave as gift (which only avoids being an unforgivable atrocity because I had read all of the material in the book. But tonight, I say we take a look at a few of Mr. Cranes poems. Perahps, in the new year, they can give us all a new air of persepctive on the world we face.

In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said: "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter - bitter," he answered;"
But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

I seem to recall Chris Egbert was a big fan of this particular poem. I'm sure that says something about him...or maybe more about the poem. I really should contact him.

In heaven,
Some little blades of grass
Stood before God.
"What did you do?"
Then all save one of the little blades
Began eagerly to relate
The merits of their lives.
This one stayed a small way behind,
Ashamed.
Presently, God said,
"And what did you do?"
The little blade answered,
"Oh my Lord,
Memory is bitter to me,
For, if I did good deeds,
I know not of them."
Then God, in all His splendor,
Arose from His throne.
"Oh, best little blade of grass!" He said.

This one has always stuck out as a great example of what Crane does so well: Take a poetic idea and tell it in a matter-of-fact, alomst unpoetic way. If tried to emulate this on many occasions, to mixed results

I walked in a desert.
And I cried,
"Ah, God, take me from this place!"
A voice said,
"It is no desert."
I cried,
"Well, But --The sand, the heat, the vacant horizon."
A voice said, "It is no desert."

One of my personal favorites and a doorway to a great expanse in the consideration of perspective.

A man said to the universe:
"Sir I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

If I'm not mistaken, this is the one that got me interested in Crane's poetry. As efficient as it is extravagant. Let us not forget our humility...