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And you, whiner, who wastes your time Dawdling over the remorseless earth, What evil, what unspeakable crime Have you made your life worth?

W. D. Snodgrass

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W. D. Snodgrass
Age: 83 †
Born: 1926
Born: January 5
Died: 2009
Died: January 13
Poet
Translator
University Teacher
Writer
Beaver Falls
Pennsylvania
Worth
Whiners
Evil
Remorseless
Earth
Wastes
Made
Whining
Time
Unspeakable
Life
Dissatisfaction
Waste
Dawdling
Crime
Whiner

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in darkness and in hedges I sang my sour tone and all my love was howling conspicuously alone.
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The sleek, expensive girls I teach, Younger and pinker every year, Bloom gradually out of reach.
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I've been accused of humanizing the Nazis, to which I can only say, you can't blame me for that. God did that. Go talk to him. It's a strange thing for an atheist to say.
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I taught myself to name my name, To bark back, loosen love and crying To ease my woman so she came, To ease an old man who was dying.
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You must call up every strength you own And you can rip off the whole facial mask.
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I have not learned how often I Can win, can love, but choose to die.
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