Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

John Wieners' “Hart Crane, Harry Crosby…” is a raw, impassioned plea that draws on the tragic lives of two renowned poets, Hart Crane and Harry Crosby, as symbols of both artistic intensity and self-destructive despair. Wieners invokes these figures to explore his own struggles with creative ambition, existential pain, and the haunting specter of self-destruction. The poem is as much an elegy for these fallen poets as it is a desperate call for meaning and salvation.

The repetition of their names—“Hart Crane, Harry Crosby”—creates a chant-like rhythm, establishing a sense of urgency and reverence. Both men were poets who met untimely and dramatic ends, with Crane leaping to his death from a ship and Crosby dying in a suicide pact. For Wieners, they represent the duality of artistic brilliance and the unbearable weight it often carries. The refrain “I see you going over the edge, / I see you going down” captures the inevitability of their descent, a trajectory that seems both tragic and fated.

The poem’s core question—“what does it feel like to fall over the end, / To know that you're going down and you're not coming up”—is both literal and metaphorical. Wieners probes the emotional and psychological state of these men in their final moments, seeking to understand their despair and, perhaps, his own. The imagery of falling is visceral, emphasizing the irreversible nature of their acts and the stark finality of their choices.

Wieners personalizes this exploration by pleading with Crane and Crosby to “stay with me” and “build up my shoulderblades.” This plea is a cry for strength and solidarity, as though their spirits could provide the resilience needed to endure his own struggles. The line “Let me carry what you threw away” positions Wieners as a successor to their legacy, both burdened by and inspired by their lives and work. It suggests a complicated inheritance, one that involves carrying the weight of their artistic vision alongside the shadow of their tragic ends.

The poem’s tone oscillates between lamentation and defiance. Wieners acknowledges the shared vulnerability of artists—“I know you guys lived like I do, crawling around on dirty sheets, hoping nobody knocks on your door”—painting a picture of isolation and fragility. Yet, there is also a call to action: “Come on, men, give me the insides of your souls.” Wieners demands not just understanding but a reckoning with the truths these men embodied, urging them to transform their pain into guidance for those still living.

The imagery in the latter half of the poem becomes increasingly intense and symbolic. The juxtaposition of bombs destroying tulips and shells killing lovers evokes the chaos and destruction of the modern world, where beauty and love are continually under siege. Wieners’ plea—“tell the old women under the tin roofs that life can be better, that love is the only value”—is a desperate assertion of hope amidst despair. It suggests that even in the face of annihilation, love and art remain redemptive forces.

The poem’s conclusion returns to the personal, as Wieners reflects on his own fears and desires. The line “I don’t want to jump out of the Ritz Tower” directly contrasts with Crosby’s leap from the Hotel des Artistes, highlighting Wieners’ struggle to resist the pull of despair. Yet, the final image—“This is the agony you saw coming down from your New York hotel. / This is what made you jump”—acknowledges the inescapable allure of surrender in the face of overwhelming pain.

“Hart Crane, Harry Crosby…” is ultimately a deeply human poem, grappling with the contradictions of artistic life: the drive to create and the weight of existence, the search for beauty and the inevitability of suffering. Wieners’ invocation of Crane and Crosby transforms them into archetypes of the tortured artist, figures who both inspire and warn. The poem resonates as a testament to the enduring struggle to find meaning and connection in a world that often feels indifferent, and it affirms the necessity of art—even in the face of despair.

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