"All the Wide Grin of Him" is one of the scariest things I have ever read. I read Stephen King at night with the lights out, I read Lovecraft in a cabin next to the ocean, I read Barker while sitting in a bordello in New Orleans. I will not read this poem anywhere but in public, during the day, fully lit, not a cloud ro moon in the sky.
I am serious when I say this poem scares me. The content is of a person viewing all these things that remind him of a grin. Then it talks of seeing Grendel, a vanished lady of the lake, and a dead King Arthur.
Maybe its just me (heck it probably is) but this poem seems to be about myths disappearing until only smiles remain. And the grin belongs to the destroyer of these myths. Why does it atack our myths? Why does it search out and destroy the dreams of history?
I am a big believer in fantasy. It is what I read, what I depend on to get me through the mundanity of life. Now someone os destroying it.
And I can do nothing.
I must sit idly by why this poem speaks of a grinner that is removing one of the few stable things in my life. If I can't depend on unreality what can I depend on?
It is just me I suppose. Fantasy doesn't mean that much to most other people. I probably shouldn't worry so. I'm sure its okay.
But just to be safe I am just going to sit here in this crowded mall, surrounded by people, during the day, fully lit, not a cloud or moon in the sky..................................