Some Time Bye and Bye

In a year that has already been rife with the passing of several writers, I’m sad to report that poet Robert Creeley passed away this morning after becoming very ill with pneumonia. I had the pleasure of interviewing him early last year, and we corresponded a little bit after that. He was definitely an important figure in American poetry, but from the little I got to know of him through the interview and subsequent e-mails, he seemed to be a really cool guy with a genuine interest in online writing and publishing and encouraging young writers.

He was kind enough to write a poem for our 24 Hour Poetry Party, which I’ll put up here. It seems especially poignant today.


Bye and Bye
Faded in face of apparent reality –
As it comes, I see it still goes on and on.
and even now still sitting at this table
is the smiling man who nobody seems to know.

Older, the walls apparently get higher.
No one seemingly gets to look over
to see the people pointing at the sky
where the old planes used to fly over.

I packed my own reality in a bag
and pushed it under the table,
thinking to retrieve it when able
some time bye and bye.

12 Responses

  1. I Listened to Your LifeRobert
    I Listened to Your Life

    Robert Creeley I listened
    to your life on NPR not
    too long ago.
    The talk being about the not
    too much money and the not too
    long poems and your early life.
    I always spelt your name wrong
    never wondered why.
    Your book of poems with pictures
    of Marisol sculptures is a valued treasure.
    The mere fact of your Black Mountain
    school connection reinforced your
    legend.
    Yet what really get’s me is the
    simplicity and sincerity of your
    poems.
    I will miss knowing you are out there, shining star from a distant time.

  2. tsunami of lifethe wave
    tsunami of life

    the wave comes
    thunder
    earth moves
    then waters recede
    taking another one

  3. Just re-read your interview
    Just re-read your interview with Robert Creeley, jamelah, and it’s truly amazing to feel the energy he imparted to you about writers, finding the ‘golden ears’ to encourage expression and his attitude about net publishing.

    Sad.

    It’s up to us to fill the void.

  4. Beautiful PoemThanks for
    Beautiful Poem

    Thanks for sharing Creely’s poem Bye and Bye with us. What a great poem, what a great writer. He will be missed.

    I hope it’s not out of place to share another poem, this one by Henry Wordsworth Longfellow, called Nature:

    As a fond mother, when the day is o’er,
    Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
    Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
    And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
    Still gazing at them through the open door,
    Nor wholly reassured and comforted
    By promises of others in their stead,
    Which, though more splendid, may not please him more;
    So nature deals with us, and takes away
    Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
    Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
    Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
    Being too full of sleep to understand
    How far the unknown transcends the what we know.

    – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  5. for creeleyyou always could
    for creeley

    you always could zero in
    dig deep places
    a kernel,a gemstone,
    your words polished and fine.
    takes me to a place
    i
    have never been.
    the gift of you will stay with me
    until breath leaves
    my place
    to the others.

  6. bye byesome other placesome
    bye bye

    some other place
    some other time
    the return
    the deriva
    the now
    bags & tables
    (leather bags, wooden tables)
    goddam big cars (yes, why not)
    gifts & love
    love
    the return
    the deriva
    (precious talking sur-round us
    autumn clothed planes)

  7. Bob CreeleyI often wonder
    Bob Creeley

    I often wonder what drew me to Bolinas in 1971, what wise and mischevious misfire of the currents and eddies of fate put me in that house on the mesa for seven years. Had I known that Bob Creeley and Bobbie Louise, Joanne Kyger and Tom Clark, Louis and Phoebe MacAdams and the other poets lived there, that Allen often visited, that the poets had just bought their own press, it might have–but I didn’t. I simply turned the wrong way in a rain storm on my way to Mendocino and ended up there. Within months, I moved there from New York and stayed seven years.

    The Creeleys moved from the red house in town to the big white house where Bobbi enlarged the kitchen and held dinner parties. We got to know each other well in the small community, as neighbors, as writers and as souls. I have more on my blog, Crackpot Chronicles, http://ellensander.com/crackpot.html. Please visit and leave a comment on my memoriam to Robert Creeley. For Love.

  8. Dream Sequence: For Robert
    Dream Sequence: For Robert Creeley

    Pen to paper, fingers to keyboard,
    No matter how you cut it,
    You may write down your own thoughts,
    Just as Robert Creeley inspires,
    Just as thoughts are going out of style-
    Linger on the screen awhile,
    Retrieve it later.

    Make that notebook last-
    Inspire new words,
    Start out slow, end up fast,
    Or start out fast & end up slow-
    No matter how you trim it,
    Or spin it,
    Or thread it-
    The stylus keeps on flowing
    With the momentum-
    You press your thoughts onto paper
    Or blog on the screen.

    Keep scanning the screen & horizons
    On the edge of your thinking
    For more discussion
    On the Cliff hanging
    Edge of consciousness…

    * * *

    We are within the continuum
    The new nectar flow of conscience of humankind-
    Who is it we see within our mind’s eye today?
    Robert Creeley… His “Windows” are our shared windows…
    The future is wonderfully seen through mind’s windows–
    Rainbow colored glass of the poet’s extra perception–
    Light behind the mind’s windows are
    Projected out into the world for all to see
    Flowing like astral vapor or water,
    Wine, or nectar into the stream of the One.

    We are finding our way of expanding
    Long distance viewing even in our sleep…

    Page Two (2)

    Finding out that inner space
    Is as large as outer space,
    Like in Robert Creeley’s “Windows”-
    Existence simply flows in many directions-
    Macrocosm is glimpsed as
    Well as Microcosm-
    Inner space is as large as outer space…
    Just a partial view of dream reflection…
    Useful technique to heed critique…

    * * *
    Channeling my vision onward toward
    Microcosm & glimpse the silver
    Edge of dreams which project
    Colors and scents, sights and emotion,
    Blending into a big ball of wax,
    Which rolls me once more into a flaming wheel,
    I see the “golden door”!
    I see the “golden door”!

    Then losing consciousness of lucid dreaming
    I fall into deeper sleep…
    I don’t know what day it is
    Seems like a Thursday…
    Nice to be channeled transportation
    By Robert Creeley, who inspired
    Transformation of my muse.

    Good luck, Robert Creeley, on your journey to the One.
    It is a “galactic highway” we all must travel-
    Certainty has arrived home,
    All is changed, as a one-eyed soulful poet channels
    Me forward even more than both my two eyes can see–
    Even though he be dead, so shall he travel on.
    Open Great Gates for the soul of Robert Creeley!

  9. I love your website but I
    I love your website but I can’t seem to get onto the guestbook. I don’t know which I like more – the Jimi Hendrix story, the poem “Get Lost”, the article “How We Dumped the War” by David Herres, the photo of you and Bill Graham, or the photo of John & Yoko at the Toronto Peace Concert. But I think what I like best is your statement that, while the 60’s were a great time to live, the present is also a great time!

  10. Memento Mori – a carpe diem
    Memento Mori

    – a carpe diem by Robert Creeley
    that touched me in its (yes !) simplicity and that i always carry in my notebook,
    from
    Histoire de Florida, in
    ‘Life and Death’:

    with that characteristic great
    balance of only seemingly naive
    word chains, finely adjusted into several synchronized tunes that take (more and more (sub-))shape(s) if You read the words just as they are placed – his way to give a message as a fatherly friend like his looks in the photograph with the umbrella, views, steps, touch –
    perhaps a Black Mountain Beat way that IS better suited for survival
    but nonetheless clear, for us, to live now:

    You’re there
    still behind
    the mirror,
    brother face (sister).

    Only yesterday
    you were younger,
    now you
    look old.

    Come out
    while there’s still time
    left
    to play.

  11. in….visibleyou holdyour
    in….visible

    you hold
    your
    heart, I

    hold

    mine.

    funny
    worlds

    funny

    words

    serious

    minds

    serious

    minds where

    history

    and system

    combine

    to mine

    scenery

    greenery

    grey

    today

    brightly

    colored

    tomorrow
    knew

    didn’t

    no

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