Kenneth Patchen (December 13, 1911–January 8, 1972) was a Beat Poet–maybe a little before the Beats, and certainly a rebellious sort.  I have two favorite poems of his: this is the short one: 

The Everlasting Contenders

Of the beast . . . an angel
Creatures of the earth
It is good
Any who praise not grandly

O but they should

But they should
Death waits for everything that lives
Beast of the wood
Grim beast of the wood

Who praise not grandly

Should should
Heart weeps for all things
Here
And is greatly comforted
For heart is the angel
Of all
Who praise not grandly

But wish they could.

.

All the internet information on Mr. Patchen appears to be rather sentimentalized for a man who knew how to fix cars and how to endure physical pain (spinal cord injury for the last twelve years of his life), but I suppose that sentiment is the invariable trapping we use to hold onto a person we don’t know very well, after all:  Just go by the poem, or perhaps his own words:

from A Note on The Hunted City, 1939-1967

A note on the structure: so much nonsense has been written about “structure” of late (usually by schoolmaster-poets), that a great many people have forgotten that the way to build a house is to build it.  Those who work with their hands know that the proper method for moving a heavy stone is to get a good firm hold, brace your feet, kick it into motion with the nubs of your fists, and ride it where you want it to go.  Make the stone work.    ( . . . . )
I believe that Hart Crane’s Bridge failed because he didn’t think enough about its structure as it had to do with his own structure as a man.  ( . . . . )
In whose name is the criterion? Dante’s, I think.  Dostoievski’s, I think.  They were writers, and they wrote.

Poems and excerpted excerpt from the long-out of print anthology Naked Poetry: Recent American poetry in open forms.  (1969).  S. Berg & R. Mezey, [Eds.].  Indianapolis, IN: Bobbs-Merrill.  You pretty much have to shop the used bookstores for this one.

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