Stephen Crane

War Poetry of Stephen Crane
Some highlights:

God fashioned the ship of the world carefully.
With the infinite skill of an All-Master
Made He the hull and the sails,
Held He the rudder
Ready for adjustment.
Erect stood He, scanning His work proudly.
Then -- at fateful time -- a wrong called,
And God turned, heeding.
Lo, the ship, at this opportunity, slipped slyly,
Making cunning noiseless travel down the ways.
So that, forever rudderless, it went upon the seas
Going ridiculous voyages,
Making quaint progress,
Turning as with serious purpose
Before stupid winds.
And there were many in the sky
Who laughed at this thing.

---

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."

Definition of how I have self-defined

Within these lines?
I think this covers nearly all
written work. I think -
Edda- n.  
  The name given to two distinct Icelandic books:    a. By Icelandic poets of 15th c. applied to a miscellaneous handbook to Icel. poetry, containing prosodic and grammatical treatises, with quotations and prose paraphrases of myths from old poems. This work (partly written by the Icelandic historian Snorre Sturluson c1230) has since 1642 been commonly called Snorre's Edda, or the Younger or Prose Edda.

    b. A collection (made c1200) of ancient ON. poems on mythical and traditional subjects. The names ‘Elder or Poetic Edda’, ‘Edda of Sæmund’, were applied to this work by Biorn of Skardsá, who erroneously ascribed its compilation to the Icelandic historian Sæmund (d. 1133).
 
  

Developing an internet presence, or a presence alone

So this is the inception of my projected spirit,
although i think i will leave the lines below just
to clarify that the beginning came before I was
of age to pass by the town-gates.
Not that I am of age now, but again from shadowy
types to truth one must travel, or one is told these
things as a shadow in itself covered in sinewy-seeming
verse or verbiage -
but I have passed the gates nonetheless, and doubt
now can only prolong the already long human youth
to an unnatural span; better to man the stocks
than to believe a mortal truth.

Or so it might seem, depending on the nightly read.
Good God or Bad It still goes right to the head,
avoiding the brain-function proud
imposing humility beyond noun.

The first post which i will delete

ahem