Many red devils...

Many red devils ran from my heart
And out upon the page,
They were so tiny
The pen could mash them.
And many struggled in the ink.
It was strange
To write in this red muck
Of things from my heart.

This poem is one stanza that is an octet. I think the poem is literal I couldn’t decide what the devil were. I thought they could be a thought from deep in his soul. To me this poem had an endearing tone towards the little devils. The darkest thing I found in Crane’s life had an encounter with a prostitute. The devils are mashed to make the red ink he has to kill his own inner thoughts to write a thought which I thought was interesting. I don’t want to beat this poem with a hose so I think I’ll stop trying to smash the little devils.