big time cat fancier


Robert Creely & Poetic Coans

From Away (Black Sparrow Press, 1976)
For A Bus On Its Side And The Man Inside it

Wise house, and
man to know it

thinks of nothing
farther than arm's reach

the room of space,
the place of body's

home, ground, grass,
trees, sky, water's

distance, books all
one in this clear place.


Robert Creeley & breath & space.

His poem: not explicit, not unnecessarily "poetic", functioning to further itself, revolving on an axis of an idea, not letting those gestures (breaks, rhythm, beauty)[fuck you up], objects calling for objects calling for thoughts calling up images calling up objects. A disjointed "truth" snaking it's way down, yet revolving around a central force (emotion, idea). A poetry built on fulcrums. Let space dictate space. Let diction dictate diction. No slouching of form and content: reciprocating. An electricity of signified-s pointing here, but going all places. Language that is charged in all directions, yet focused to a moment, a feeling, a unit of temporal being. Creeley's poems are units of life.


breath and rhythm: dictate you.

velocity indicates length (velocity = work x Martians - outside pressures).

take breaks.

never take breaks.

constantly read.


constantly READ!

the "meaning" isn't important.

make a bank of it.

keep "it" out of sight.

never show your hand.

always motioning forward.

everything in relationship to everything else.

all work = one work.

to make the real real again.

serialize your thoughts.

serialize your garbage, the garbage (cultural, metaphorical, literal).

be messy.

clean up after yourself.

sometimes show your hand.

never be in control.

keep mind "blank."

careful revisions.

no revisions.

always revise.

"sixty percent of the time, it work everytime."

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