12 April, 2012

The one without a name

I think I love and understand one of my favorite poems now more than ever.
No wonder Crane was brilliant enough not to bother with a name for it.

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.”

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