Happy Birthday

Currently Hearing: Dear Science by TV On the Radio
Currently Sitting: At My Desk in My Apartment
Currently Writing: A Paper Explaining the Problem of Evil from the Perspective of Process Theology
Currently Waiting: For My Macaroni to Cool Down

Today, ladies and gentlemen, is the birthday of Stephen Crane, a wonderful author, and one of my favorite poets. He died when he was only 28, but obviously did not die without making literary waves. Here are a few of my favorite Crane poems for you to enjoy:

Should the wide world roll away,
Leaving black terror,
Limitless night,
Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand
Would be to me essential,
If thou and thy white arms were there,
And the fall to doom a long way.
------------------------------
Supposing that I should have the courage
To let a red sword of virtue
Plunge into my heart,
Letting to the weeds of the ground
My sinful blood,
What can you offer me?
A gardened castle?
A flowery kingdom?

What? A hope?
Then hence with your red sword of virtue.
------------------------------
A slant of sun on dull brown walls
A forgotten sky of bashful blue.
Toward God a mighty hymn
A song of collisions and cries
Rumbling wheels, hoof-beats, bells.
Welcomes, farewells, love-calls, final moans,
Voices of joy, idiocy, warning, despair,
The unknown appeals of brutes,
The chanting of flowers
The screams of cut trees,
The senseless babble of hens and wise men-
A cluttered incoherency that says at the stars:
"O, God, save us."
------------------------------
Ah, God, the way your little finger moved
As you thrust a bare arm backward
And made play with your hair
And a comb a silly gilt comb
Ah, God - that I should suffer
Because of the way a little finger moved.