"This book will never be published[;]...in fact, it couldn't be, because it would be a felony." I explored the footnotes, and was intrigued by Twain's own words regarding Letters from the Earth. As I read on and discovered that the piece was only published after his and his daughter, Clara's, death, I was bothered. She had objected, "feeling the letters misrepresented her father's beliefs." I couldn't concentrate on the words the first night. It was as if I was encroaching on a diary without permission. So, the history behind the work shook me. I kept considering my own father.

Now I've explored the pages with bits of respect and a grain of salt. The tone is edgy, heavy and I would relate that to Twain's tone in his own life as he wrote. Haven't we all experienced a bad week, month, or year? I'd like to defend him against all the critical accounts that would ravish him for his tale that appears to be against the sacred. I posses Christian faith that I have worked to own, and I also believe in freedom of speech and expression. Who wants to be defined by one piece of work? Let's just take what we can from it and consider it's attributes.

I felt a satirical twist relating to man more than God and the creation. I found meaning and honesty in the brash portrayed letters from Satan. Mankinds frailties are displayed and chronicled for all to see. Twain questions faith and society. "More men go to church than want to." I don't know who could argue with that. It's true, and maybe a value to this piece would be in the challenge. What are your motives? Are we mindless followers molding ourselves to the standard norm of the society we've come from and reside in. It's not a pleasant experience to read through a list of our deep rooted weaknesses.

The writing was witty and smart. The syntax flowed easily form each scene into the next. There were certainly no dull moments. The generalized depiction of Heaven was just funny. I'd never considered the idea of legions of mankind playing harps and singing as a form of praise. This is the kind of peice you don't take literally, but you wander through grasping at the deeper meaning. It's great to be challenged. What kind of person do you chose to be? That's what I read.

"A child said What is the grass? Fetching it to me with full hands." Walt Whitman's opening in the sixth section of "song of Myself" caught me. As a reader, I was captured in the sentiment by a visual depiction of his words. I imagined a sweet child holding feathered grass in has palms as he contemplates the question with serious intent. The depth of this piece continues with an honest answer which is , what I would consider, a rarity to such a situation. I wouldn't say that adults are vicious in the partial truths they tell. Often I 've seen or participated in a shortened answer to a child just for lack of interest or time. The poetic, descriptive language and repetition of syllables and phrases seemed particularly flowing and beautiful as Whitman approaches grass as "the handkerchief of the Lord" and "a scented gift."

A reoccurring theme throughout Whitman's work is human equality. The significance of the subtle message that grass grows around all men and women is indiscriminate. His views on the matter appear childlike and pure. Station and race should not define a person, and to most children, they don't. I would call his work rhetorical as I sense it is written with a specific purpose, a message to the reader, hidden in florid language. It's not a lament or a story poem meant only to entertain. He suggests and inserts his views and observations.

The movement continues with grass representing profound things including "the uncut hair of graves." This perspective takes on the question of a connection to generations of the dead and his distinct view of an afterlife. The undertone of a connection to an afterlife is answered by him "they are all alive and well somewhere." The passage suggests a link among all that live and have passed on. I found it hopeful and was very interested by his choice of a final word as he described the dead. "Luckier"

Emily Dickinson's work was very concise and I found it more simplistic in meaning,. I did connect to poem 372. It was painful, but easy to relate to. Every reader, at some point, has experienced "great pain." The way we may tend to pull away from our emotions in an effort to protect ourselves and become numb is depicted well. The examples are original and unique, but make sense. Examples that did this would include "mechanical wooden feet" and the reference to "quartz contentment." The downward movement in the last sentence brings relief and closure. We're reminded of the process of reprieve from all the pain, "letting go."

Poem

Bundled in blue fleece
Baby sleeps.
Bound in buckles and belts
Serenity.