Robert Creeley

Here on my desk staring at the work that matters. Pages and pages of words, and I am deliberating on what needs doing. Of course a poem is never over, of course. But the manuscript exists. Place to Be Robert Creeley Days the

I've been doing this thing where I am working myself ragged for days. I feel so exhausted - my brain could run for hours if I let it, but my back is proclaiming agony. Surprisingly though my heart is doing

These headaches, they're not funny anymore. I've been getting a lot of them lately, and I must admit it's making me a bit scared. Like why-is-this-happening and what-is-wrong-with-me kind of scared. I've always had migraines since I was a kid,

Fools rush in, says Sinatra in a song, and here I am, more than glad to be unhappy, he sings. Look at yourself, he croons, do you still believe the rumor that romance is simply grand? Here, a poem for our

I should borrow more Creeley in the library this year. The Rain Robert Creeley All night the sound had come back again, and again falls this quiet, 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

Here's a secret: I wanted to steal all the Robert Creeley books in the library. Every bookstore I went to doesn't have his works. Shame. A Reason Robert Creeley Each gesture is a common one, a black dog, crying, a man, crying. All alike, people or things