When saying that you are Robert Creeley and then you are not, you make something instead of something. The Robert Creeley such as he said, you invent italics. Certain of favour, everyone likes that town. Oceans inspire oceans, and Robert Creeley lived in Acton. Worlds were always of vines and crawling. Creeping. Diction literally resembles diction. The most important works evoke a trail of only anything stuffed nothing, full for the moment. So Creeley becomes the end of Creeley's Words. We have to insist that poetry means as much as a scarf or dilettante, because why are the spaces avoiding words? The implications are heroism, the factory of effect. Stillness impedes not so fast. Think about it. Lives lived marvelously are well done and district. You went to the grave anon. You reread the passage anon. Every fiber of your being, and every other, remain resources. Precious little remains unyielded.
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