{"id":578,"date":"2005-07-14T16:14:14","date_gmt":"2005-07-14T20:14:14","guid":{"rendered":"\/?p=578"},"modified":"2006-08-05T11:43:58","modified_gmt":"2006-08-05T15:43:58","slug":"literary-executor-ii-the-votes-are-in","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/?p=578","title":{"rendered":"Literary Executor II: The Votes Are In"},"content":{"rendered":"

You will recall from Part 1<\/a> that I owned a typescript of two unpublished poems by Yvor Winters and referred to my readers the question of what to do with them. Arguments were offered for selling, publishing, and burning. The arsonists had much the worst of it. Their best point was mine: that publishing them would muddy Winters’ reputation, and the reputations of poets are easily muddied. Still, even Helen Vendler<\/a> can probably distinguish these juvenilia from such performances as “Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight,” “On a View of Pasadena from the Hills,” “Before Disaster,” “To the Holy Spirit,”<\/a> and “Danse Macabre.”<\/a> Eddie Thomas<\/a> suggested that burning them will spare my heirs (my girlfriend) from thinking about what they stand to gain from my death — this typescript, and a stolen eight-ball from the local poolroom. I thank Eddie for making me feel, for a moment, like the billionaire who informs his grasping nephews that everything will go to the dog shelter. Perhaps he will be mollified to know that Lisa was only kidding. You were<\/i> kidding, right sweetheart?<\/p>\n

The historians pointed out a few matters that did not occur to me. We preserve literature for reasons other than strict aesthetic merit. Colby Cosh<\/a> cites the poetry of Queen Elizabeth, which isn’t much good but which we are happy to have. Colby also reminds me that as an accidental executor my responsibilities may differ from, say, Max Brod’s<\/a>. Bad poetry, Michael Krantz points out, may shed light on the good, though in my own experience it tends only to obscure it. I agree, however, with George Wallace<\/a> that I have hedged about them sufficiently that no one will likely take these poems for more than what they are. In short, the historians win. <\/p>\n

The mercenaries, led by the terse Paul Frankenstein<\/a>, may take comfort in the fact that publishing and selling are not mutually exclusive. But I like owning the typescript and I don’t need the money. Certainly I will sell it before I dine on dog food.<\/p>\n

Since I’m not going to get rid of them, I see no reason to withhold them. So here they are.<\/p>\n

The Hermit<\/span><\/p>\n

The shaggy old man of the canyons
\nWas fearful for mortal to see;
\nBut he scattered his crumbs to the song-birds,
\nAnd raised the sage flower for the bee.<\/p>\n

All folk turned aside when they saw him,
\nThey feared his strange eyes and long hair;
\nBut he played with the fawns in the shadows,
\nAnd dug up sweet roots with the bear.<\/p>\n

And so when he died no men mourned him,
\nFor he was a stranger to men;
\nBut the fawns stare big-eyed from the shadows,
\nAnd the old bear moaned in the glen.<\/p>\n

And the birds gave over their singing,
\nAnd the canyons were lonely and still;
\nAnd the birds dropped leaves over his body,
\nAnd the bees hummed his dirge on the hill.<\/p>\n

\nTo A Coyote<\/span><\/p>\n

Gentle pussyfooter of the gulleys,
\nYou of the sleepy slouch,
\nOf the furtive tail,
\nAnd the leering eye,
\nWith your long tongue sliding enviously
\nOut of one corner of your mouth,
\nDripping,
\nSlavering,
\nYour coat is moth-eaten,
\nAnd your ribs show through it,
\nYour–<\/p>\n

But wait,
\nWhere have I seen you before?<\/p>\n

–Yvor Winters<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

You will recall from Part 1 that I owned a typescript of two unpublished poems by Yvor Winters and referred to my readers the question of what to do with them. Arguments were offered for selling, publishing, and burning. The arsonists had much the worst of it. Their best point was mine: that publishing them […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-578","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","category-2-id","post-seq-1","post-parity-odd","meta-position-corners","fix"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/578","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=578"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/578\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=578"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=578"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.godofthemachine.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=578"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}