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
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.
tsunami of lifethe wave
tsunami of life
the wave comes
thunder
earth moves
then waters recede
taking another one
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.
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
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.
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)
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.
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!
Wow! Good one, Steve Plonk.
Wow! Good one, Steve Plonk.
Sweet.
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!
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.
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