new zealand electronic poetry centre


Robert Creeley

Robert Creeley's NZ

So There
-- for Penelope Highton

Da. Da. Da da.
       Where is the song.
What’s wrong
       with life

ever. More?
       Or less –
days, nights,

days. What's gone
       is gone forever
every time,
old friend's
       voice here. I want

to stay, somehow,
       if I could –
if I would? Where else
       to go.

The sea here's out
       the window, old
switcher's house, vertical,
       railroad blues, lonesome

etc. Can you
       think of Yee's Cafe
in Needles, California
       opposite the train

station – can you keep
       it ever
together, old buddy, talking
       to yourself again?

Meantime some yuk
       in Hamilton has blown
the whistle on a charming
       evening I wanted

to remember otherwise –
       the river there, that
afternoon, sitting,
       friends, wine & chicken,

watching the world go by.
       Happiness, happiness –
so simple. What's
       that anger is that

competition – sad! --
       when this at least
is free,
       to put it mildly.

My aunt Bernice
       in Nokomis,
Florida's last act,
       a poem for Geo. Washington's

birthday. Do you want
       to say ‘It's bad’?
In America, old sport,
       we shoot first, talk later,

or just take you out to dinner.
       No worries, or not
at the moment,
       sitting here eating bread,

cheese, butter, white wine –
       like Bolinas, ‘Whale Town,’
my home, like they say,
       in America. It's one world,

it can't be another.
       So the beauty,
beside me, rises,
       looks now out window –

and breath keeps on breathing,
       heart's pulled in
a sudden, deep, sad
       longing, to want

to stay – be another
       person some day,
when I grow up.
       The world's somehow

forever that way
       and its lovely, roily,
shifting shores, sounding now,
       in my ears. My ears?

Well, what's on my head
       as two skin appendages,
comes with the package,
       I don't want to

argue the point.
it changes, gone,
       abstract, new places –

moving on. Is this
       some old time weird
Odysseus trip
       sans paddle – up

the endless creek?
       Thinking of you,
baby, thinking
       of all the things

I'd like to say and do.
       Old fashioned time
it takes to be
       anywhere, at all.

Moving on. Mr. Ocean,
       Mr. Sky's
got the biggest blue eyes
       in creation –

here comes the sun!

       While we can,
let's do it, let's
       have fun.


First published in Robert Creeley, Hello (Taylors Mistake: Hawk Press, 1976) by Alan Loney.
©Robert Creeley

Last updated 09 February, 2002