[I stumbled upon this curious, 103 year old poem this morning]
In the desert
by Stephen Crane
This poem was published in 1905 in the volume The Black Rider & Other Lines.
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."
Stephen Crane's "In the Desert"
- tinkerjack
- Posts: 987
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I think of Richard Brautigan when I read this poem by Philip Whalen
I stumbled across it last night when I was organizing my bookmarks
Like Kerouac before him, Brautigan had a bitter heart at the end.
I wish I did not learn as much about K & B as I did.
I wish I had just enjoyed their work and let it go at that.
No need to rummage through their sad lives.
I think Nietzsche might have been right
The artist is just the manure from which his art grows.
I stumbled across it last night when I was organizing my bookmarks
Like Kerouac before him, Brautigan had a bitter heart at the end.
I wish I did not learn as much about K & B as I did.
I wish I had just enjoyed their work and let it go at that.
No need to rummage through their sad lives.
I think Nietzsche might have been right
The artist is just the manure from which his art grows.
I can't live in this world
And I refuse to kill myself
Or let you kill me.
The dill plant lives, the airplane
My alarm clock, this ink
I won't go away
I shall be myself --
Free, a genius, an embarrassment
Like the Indian, the buffalo
Like Yellowstone National Park.
(Whalen, Further Notice).
In Memory of Philip Whalen
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