Wallace Stevens is the greatest American poet

Wallace Stevens is the greatest American poet.

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Agreed. But it's close with Whitman

>Whitman
lmao

I like Wallace Stevens too, but why don't you like Whitman OP? Section 6 of Song of Myself is one of my favorite poems in the American canon.

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,
A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,
Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may
see and remark, and say Whose?
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,
And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,
Growing among black folks as among white,
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass,
It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,
It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,
It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps,
And here you are the mothers' laps.
This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,
Darker than the colorless beards of old men,
Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.
O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,
And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.
I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and women,
And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken soon out of their laps.
What do you think has become of the young and old men?
And what do you think has become of the women and chil- dren?
They are alive and well somewhere,
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
play

>why don't you like Whitman OP?
he was his generations rupi kapur
>that poem
it's dogshit I'm not reading it.

Weird way to spell Hart Crane but ok

How was Walt Whitman his generation's Rupi?

You dislike a poet you refuse to read? Sad

Wallace Stevens? That's a weird way to spell Ezra Pound!

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t. discord trannies

No but really how was Walt Whitman his generation's Rupi?

Wallace Stevens is atrocious. He wrote in the shadow of Freud and created art for art’s sake. The majority of his poems are concerning the form of poetry, which is nice and dandy if you spend your time fantasizing about being a poet, but a bit nauseating if you are interested in the experience of life.

It's Emily Dickinson, by far

good pick, desu its probably a southern poet or this

>created art for art’s sake
As if that's a bad thing

He doesn't have any arguments, it's a faggot from another thread randomly hating on Whitman.

It really is.

he sounds and looks like some drunk fag that threw rocks at pregnant women and tried to eat underage filthy pussy in an outhouse somewhere

he has that worthless dfw vibe

So you don't like him because you don't like how he looks

"Art for art's sake" really just means that the poet/artist refuses to sacrifice his passion for contemporary theoretical quibbles.

More like his generation's Rumi

I hate to sage a Whitman thread, but user inspires feelings of hate in me

nah man I dislike his poetry

Why though?

For me, it's Bob Dylan.