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The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975 Quotes
The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
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Robert Creeley1,620 ratings, 4.21 average rating, 33 reviews
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The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975 Quotes
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“What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
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
final uneasiness.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
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
final uneasiness.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“... Now love also
becomes a reward so
remote from me I have
only made it with my mind.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
becomes a reward so
remote from me I have
only made it with my mind.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“A Token"
My lady
fair with
soft
arms, what
can I say to
you—words, words
as if all
worlds were there.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
My lady
fair with
soft
arms, what
can I say to
you—words, words
as if all
worlds were there.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“Bless
something small
but infinite
and quiet.
— Robert Creeley, from “A Prayer,” The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945–1975. (University of California Press; 2nd ed. edition October 23, 2006)”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
something small
but infinite
and quiet.
— Robert Creeley, from “A Prayer,” The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945–1975. (University of California Press; 2nd ed. edition October 23, 2006)”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“The Tunnel"
Tonight, nothing is long enough—
time isn’t.
Were there a fire,
it would burn now.
Were there a heaven,
I would have gone long ago.
I think that light
is the final image.
But time reoccurs,
love—and an echo.
A time passes
love in the dark.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
Tonight, nothing is long enough—
time isn’t.
Were there a fire,
it would burn now.
Were there a heaven,
I would have gone long ago.
I think that light
is the final image.
But time reoccurs,
love—and an echo.
A time passes
love in the dark.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“Old Song”
I'm feeling ok still in some small way.
I've come too far to just go away.
I wish 1 could stay here some way.
So that what now comes wouldn't only be more
of what's to be lost. What's left would still leave more
to come if one didn't rush to get there.
What's still to say? Your eyes, your hair, your smile,
your body sweet as fresh air, your voice in the clear morning
after another night, another night, we lay together, sleeping?
If that has to go, it was never here.
If I know still you're here, then I'm here too
and love you, and love you.
Robert Creeley, The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley (University of California Press; First edition,
October 23, 2006)”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
I'm feeling ok still in some small way.
I've come too far to just go away.
I wish 1 could stay here some way.
So that what now comes wouldn't only be more
of what's to be lost. What's left would still leave more
to come if one didn't rush to get there.
What's still to say? Your eyes, your hair, your smile,
your body sweet as fresh air, your voice in the clear morning
after another night, another night, we lay together, sleeping?
If that has to go, it was never here.
If I know still you're here, then I'm here too
and love you, and love you.
Robert Creeley, The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley (University of California Press; First edition,
October 23, 2006)”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“The Token"
My lady
fair with
soft
arms, what
can I say to
you—words, words
as if all
worlds were there.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
My lady
fair with
soft
arms, what
can I say to
you—words, words
as if all
worlds were there.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“The Answer"
Will we speak to each other
making the grass bend as if
a wind were before us, will our
way be as graceful, as
substantial as the movement
of something moving so gently.
We break things into pieces like
walls we break ourselves into
hearing them fall just to hear it.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
Will we speak to each other
making the grass bend as if
a wind were before us, will our
way be as graceful, as
substantial as the movement
of something moving so gently.
We break things into pieces like
walls we break ourselves into
hearing them fall just to hear it.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“The Woman"
I have never
clearly given to you
the associations
you have for me, you
with such
divided presence my dream
does not show
you. I do not dream.
I have compounded
these sensations, the
accumulation of the things
left me by you.
Always your
tits, not breasts, but
harsh sudden rises
of impatient flesh
on the chest--is it
mine--which flower
against the vagueness
of the air you move in.
You walk
such a shortness
of intent strides, your
height is so low,
in my hand
I feel the weight
of yours there,
one over one
of both, as you
pivot upon me, the
same weight grown
as the hair, the
second of your attributes,
falls to
cover us. We
couple but lie against
no surface, have
lifted as you again
grow small
against myself, into
the air. The
air the third of
the signs of you
are known by: a
quiet, a soughing silence,
the winds lightly
moved. Then
your
mouth, it opens not
speaking, touches,
wet, on me. Then
I scream, I
sing such as is
given to me, roar-
ing unheard,
like stark sight
sees itself
inverted
into dark
turned. Onanistic.
I feel around
myself what
you have left me
with, wetness, pools
of it, my skin
drips.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
I have never
clearly given to you
the associations
you have for me, you
with such
divided presence my dream
does not show
you. I do not dream.
I have compounded
these sensations, the
accumulation of the things
left me by you.
Always your
tits, not breasts, but
harsh sudden rises
of impatient flesh
on the chest--is it
mine--which flower
against the vagueness
of the air you move in.
You walk
such a shortness
of intent strides, your
height is so low,
in my hand
I feel the weight
of yours there,
one over one
of both, as you
pivot upon me, the
same weight grown
as the hair, the
second of your attributes,
falls to
cover us. We
couple but lie against
no surface, have
lifted as you again
grow small
against myself, into
the air. The
air the third of
the signs of you
are known by: a
quiet, a soughing silence,
the winds lightly
moved. Then
your
mouth, it opens not
speaking, touches,
wet, on me. Then
I scream, I
sing such as is
given to me, roar-
ing unheard,
like stark sight
sees itself
inverted
into dark
turned. Onanistic.
I feel around
myself what
you have left me
with, wetness, pools
of it, my skin
drips.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
“The Sentence"
There is that in love
which, by the syntax of,
men find women and join
their bodies of their minds
—which wants so to acquire
a continuity, a place,
a demonstration that it must
be one’s own sentence.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
There is that in love
which, by the syntax of,
men find women and join
their bodies of their minds
—which wants so to acquire
a continuity, a place,
a demonstration that it must
be one’s own sentence.”
― The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1945-1975
