cumulus nought//
their faces arise within the circumference of the butterwheel
melting through the standard icons of the great chang[ing
face one is a contortion of tiny vestibules and speaks
subbliprooncogenaut sour rainddeer brushu
face two is a contortion of tiny vestibules and speaks
One of the most kind accessible poets I ever met. The silence after each line
Begin forwarded message:
From: Charles Bernstein [EMAIL PROTECTED]>
Date: March 30, 2005 9:46:22 AM CST
To: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
Subject: Robert Creeley (1926-2005)
Reply-To: UB Poetics discussion group [EMAIL
rany a mysteria
was blue attracted these, from the mountain-slopes:
bent itself damp stretching veranden edges this started blue
that on the tar the rusty colouring of the ivy, in the locations
of fracture the fuse boxes, knot, the rough sugar cubes spray
on the metal skins of the telegraph wires
I'll not waste this short silence on
a dull round of prey wildly islanded,
abandoned clear to which animal the
poet died to produce / pray torn essays
instead above than rocks to
mountain us dull rounds of prey
too from falling mists my far me
far from some praised bite, rather
a moisture and
love, song, the a-loves
lips not pour: time, but words
green o'er gaze, envying the
headlong by the deep; not
cloven are infant spectres
awake the race inherit springs
till life, of fall, airs, sail; meet how
soon, when slow meet: its skies;
and words love's be,
