23 of 31. Robert Creeley

He wrote more than sixty books
not just about poetry either–

I mean the guy wrote short stories,
criticism, poetry, reviews.

The Art of Poetry No. 10
Lewis McAdams tried to interview
him, but ended up drunk, shoveling
his driveway with him instead.

His wife’s name was Bobbie.
He raised pigeons.
Drove an ambulance in Burma.

Went to Harvard.
He lost an eye in an accident
when he was four.

Practical, unremoved mystic.
The Paris Review uncurled him
like smoke in my living room.

The barfight with Pollock,
the LSD, the painters he loved
like Pollock, and wrote about

in color and jazz. He was an
American in Europe for awhile,
and the Black Mountain School,

and Ginsberg, you know, all that
sort of stuff. Letters, letters,
letters. He was writing them

almost every other day to Charles
Olson, William Carlos Williams.
The writing of a poem, for him,

took as long as the act of writing
it actually took.

Progressive maybe,
but the man was a poet.


About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in 30 in 30, fall, Poetry, Writing Tips and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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