Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

In Robert Creeley's "The Crow," a disturbing scene unfolds, reflecting themes of guilt, rejection, and the complex nature of remorse. The poem presents a stark, unsettling image of a crow in a cage, symbolizing both confinement and resentment. The speaker's relationship with the crow is antagonistic; the crow "hates" him because he "will not feed him," suggesting a deliberate act of deprivation. This initial dynamic sets up a powerful metaphor for abandonment and control, as if the speaker is withholding something essential not only to dominate the crow but also to provoke a reaction, an embodiment of strained relations and unmet needs.

The poem's second stanza heightens this discomfort with an admission of violence: "I killed him." Creeley here challenges the reader to confront a sudden escalation from neglect to outright brutality. There is no attempt at justification, no exploration of motive, which gives the action a chilling neutrality. The speaker states that he has "left nothing behind in leaving," underscoring a complete severance from any responsibility or memory of the crow, as if the act of killing has erased any emotional or moral residue. This line hints at themes of detachment and desensitization, as though the speaker has stripped away any part of himself that might feel regret.

In the third stanza, the speaker adds a morbid detail: he hit the crow "over the head with a stick," and now "there is nothing I laugh at." This detail of physical violence, juxtaposed with the idea of laughter, draws out a darkly ironic tone. The inability to laugh may symbolize the extinguishing of joy or innocence in the speaker’s life, as though the violent act has left a void where there once was levity or warmth. This line suggests that, despite his apparent detachment, the speaker might be grappling with the consequences of his actions, haunted by a silence that fills the space laughter once occupied.

The poem’s closing lines delve into the nature of guilt and remorse: "Sickness is the hatred of a repentance / knowing there is nothing he wants." Here, "sickness" becomes an emotional state, a self-directed revulsion tied to the futility of repentance. The speaker acknowledges a kind of repentance but frames it as "hatred," indicating a self-loathing that lacks any redemptive purpose. This repentance is not a path to forgiveness or healing; rather, it is a realization of his own emptiness, mirrored by the dead crow’s silence. The phrase "knowing there is nothing he wants" underscores a sense of nihilism, a recognition that there is no desire left—either in the speaker or the crow—that could justify or alleviate the violence that has occurred.

"The Crow" thus serves as a meditation on alienation and moral desensitization. Through the crow, Creeley explores how relationships, even antagonistic ones, hold a mirror to human behavior, reflecting needs, resentments, and ultimately the capacity for cruelty. The speaker's actions—his neglect, his violence, and his final indifference—reveal an internal void, a "sickness" that consumes empathy and replaces it with a hollow acknowledgment of wrongdoing, devoid of any true contrition. This haunting poem leaves the reader questioning the nature of repentance and the boundaries of human compassion, as well as the psychological toll of severing oneself from both guilt and grace.

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