So, I have a poetry analysis due on Monday, and one of the things that I’ve been trying to do is find the poem that I’m supposed to analyse. It’s not that I don’t have it– the Prof. printed it out for us and gave us each a copy– but other than the physical copy, it doesn’t seem to be anywhere. It’s been suggested to me that because there is no name attached to the work (it was found on a casualty of the Falaise pocket) that it would be hard to find. It’s not that I can’t do an analysis on the poem based on his prompt, but that didn’t stop me from emailing the Library of Congress. I should hear back from them by next week.

When we were discussing the poem in class, I mentioned that the poem seemed (to me) to be constructed, because of the juxtaposition of the surroundings. It is dated 6-6-44, or D-Day to the Allies, and the caption says that it was found on the body of the soldier that (presumably) wrote it on 19 Aug. 1944. That’s a simple narrative, the soldier was on the beaches on D-Day and killed towards the end of Operation Overlord.  But, being human, my thought process seemed to reject that simplicity. Life is rarely so organized.

And that’s so weird, because it’s totally plausible that that happened! And it’s also bizarre because my mind basically invented a narrative that it then summarily rejected. And why did I even invent that narrative anyways, the Author is Dead! (In this case, quite literally.) Why should it matter who this person is or was?

Well… because I like to think I matter? I mean, I have enough of a problem with my Cartesian demons telling me I don’t matter, I don’t need anyone else to say it. And if something I writes goes all Zardoz on a society, I’d maybe like the credit? Or maybe not, that movie was weird… In any case, even if I’m reduced to an author function a la Foucault, at least my name is still attached to it. Maybe I just feel sorry for the guy– I’m reading something he wrote almost 75 years after the fact and I don’t even know his name.

Maybe wanting to know that says something about what I want out of writing.