Robert Creeley (May 21, 1926 – March 30, 2005) was an American poet and author of more than sixty books. He is usually associated with the Black Mountain poets, though his verse aesthetic diverged from that school's. He was close with Charles Olson, Robert Duncan, Allen Ginsberg, John Wieners and Ed Dorn. He served as the Samuel P. Capen Professor of Poetry and the Humanities at State University of New York at Buffalo. In 1991, he joined colleagues Susan Howe, Charles Bernstein, Raymond Federman, Robert Bertholf, and Dennis Tedlock in founding the Poetics Program at Buffalo. Creeley lived in Waldoboro, Maine, Buffalo, New York, and Providence, Rhode Island where he taught at Brown ... more »
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Robert Creeley Poems
All night the sound had come back again, and again falls this quite, persistent rain.
A Form Of Women
I have come far enough from where I was not before to have seen the things looking in at me from through the open door
Seeing is believing. Whatever was thought or said, these persistent, inexorable deaths
I Know A Man
As I sd to my friend, because I am always talking,--John, I
America, you ode for reality! Give back the people you took. Let the sun shine again
I approach with such a careful tremor, always I feel the finally foolish
for Mark Peters Not just nothing, Not there's no answer,
You send me your poems, I'll send you mine. Things tend to awaken
Whereas the man who hits the gong dis- proves it, in all its simplicity --
Looking to the sea, it is a line of unbroken mountains. It is the sky.
The words are a beautiful music. The words bounce like in water. Water music,
The thing comes of itself (Look up
For love-I would split open your head and put a candle in behind the eyes.
My love's manners in bed are not to be discussed by me, as mine by her I would not credit comment upon gracefully.
Comments about Robert Creeley
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quite, persistent rain.
What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
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
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.
with a decent ...