Belated obituary - Robert Creeley (1 Viewer)

[pavlos]

Don't post here much, but anyways, I just found out someone who's work I liked died ages ago and hadn't heard. I did a search here and nothing came up, so I thought maybe someone else might be interested. A lad called Robert Creeley: here's my favourite anyways....

"Rain"
-----
All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quite, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent--
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.
---------------------------

And another...

"I Know A Man"

As I sd to my friend, because I am
always talking,--John, I

sd, which was not his
name, the darkness sur-
rounds us, what

can we do against
it, or else, shall we &
why not, buy a goddamn big car,

drive, he sd, for
christ's sake, look
out where yr going

-------
Proper obit:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/obituaries/story/0,,1452159,00.html

 

[cyclotron]

The one he recited on the Mercury rev 10".

*******************************
So There
-- for Penelope Highton


Da. Da. Da da.
Where is the song.
What's wrong
with life

ever. More?
Or less ?
days, nights,
these

days. What's gone is gone forever
every time, old friend's
voice here. I want

to stay, somehow,
if I could ?
if I would? Where else
to go.

The sea here's out
the window, old
switcher's house, vertical,
railroad blues, lonesome

whistle, etc. Can you
think of Yee's Cafe
in Needles, California
opposite the train

station ?can you keep
it ever
together, old buddy, talking
to yourself again?

Meantime some yuk
in Hamilton has blown
the whistle on a charming
evening I wanted

to remember otherwise ?
the river there, that
afternoon, sitting,
friends, wine & chicken,

watching the world go by.
Happiness, happiness ?
so simple. What's
that anger is that

competition ?sad! --
when this at least
is free,
to put it mildly.

My aunt Bernice
in Nokomis,
Florida's last act,
a poem for Geo. Washington's

birthday. Do you want
to say it's bad?
In America, old sport,
we shoot first, talk later,

or just take you out to dinner.
No worries, or not
at the moment,
sitting here eating bread,

cheese, butter, white wine ?
like Bolinas, whale Town,?
my home, like they say,
in America. It's one world,

it can't be another.
So the beauty,
beside me, rises,
looks now out window ?
and breath keeps on breathing,
heart's pulled in
a sudden, deep, sad
longing, to want

to stay ?be another
person some day,
when I grow up.
The world's somehow

forever that way
and its lovely, roily,
shifting shores, sounding now,
in my ears. My ears?

Well, what's on my head
as two skin appendages,
comes with the package,
I don't want to

argue the point.
Tomorrow
it changes, gone,
abstract, new places
moving on. Is this
some old time weird
Odysseus trip
sans paddle ?up

the endless creek?
Thinking of you,
baby, thinking
of all the things

I'd like to say and do.
Old fashioned time
it takes to be
anywhere, at all.

Moving on. Mr. Ocean,
Mr. Sky's
got the biggest blue eyes
in creation ?

here comes the sun!
While we can,
let's do it, let's
have fun.