Indices Of Relevance

 

1. Robert Creeley’s hat: was it a one time thing? Surely those who read this person’s poetry knows something you do not know. Even ifyou read poems by Robert Creeley, do you float or fall? Are exagerations enough in the long run? This person adapted to poetry, with the bearing books, somehow.
2. While exploding in the pure banshee of poetry, did the famous name of Creeley exactly or not elect and pronounce? The flat planet of bickering holds. The poet may have said ‘fuck’ with his chance vocabulary. On towards a mistral.
3. No Things But In Ideas, with riverine reward. You don’t stop for words, you attach and going. So Creeley eventually had but one eye, and the heroics of being too much. So lovable.
4. Robert Creeley as a writer, and particularly as one who writes poetry, reminds reader of words, some, and trails leading to sources and severances, and mystical conjectures surfacing. Meanwhile the dative case of human interaction circles and just about drowns while twirling, that is, the life of the poet, when it comes to that. Meanwhile, something ungenerative, and you might as well vote for Donald Trump again, the moon crashing lower, the fuck anyone cares. And honestly, will you ever learn to read?
5. Remember that you can sock someone in the eye for espousing non-critical-mass invocations to the Muses and the desperate urge to regard influence like medication and the droop of spheres, retrograde motions, and farcical notions of advancement.
6. The dull poets simplify the matrix, but only some words untangle. The knots prove scintillant. Hold on to a gesture, use damask as a descriptor of wallpaper (if no one else will), wait while this Robert Creeley teases edges into beams. He worked effortlessly as a weight. And the career, from point to point, over and under time, spackle on squalour for a story. Legends derived by breathlessness, and the bitter taste of endive, burst onto the seen.
7.