Robert Creeley
I saw him read once. In Chicago, in 1968 or 1969. At a small private college. North Park College maybe.
He was brilliant. One wow poem after another. He was drunk. He was sitting on a chair at the podium. Drinking and reading and drinking and reading.
I'd never seen a poet sitting and reading and drinking all at the same time hbut he was.
And then he wasn't. He had fallen down and wasn't getting up. And then he was up again and reading. And drinking. And reading. One wow poem after another.
Just like this one:
As Now It Would Be Snow
1
As now it would be snow
one would see, and in
the days, ways of looking
become as soft as shapes
under the snow, as dumb,
and the trees grey, in
the white light, he said:
the mind is right to
fight the cold for the
cold is not its cold, and
the sun is cold, the
nights as white as days,
against the mind, trying
to put the mind away.
2
As now it would be snow,
he could see the days
become another way which
he could not go back
to, and seeing trees
as sharp, still, in his
mind, he said: the mind is
right. The snow will go
and mind remain, and mind
as cold as snow upon the
shapes of trees, to see
the trees as shapes as
sharp as cold, when sun
has put the snow away.
3
As now it would be snow
he would see, and the
trees no longer sharp
but soft shapes, and for
the eye, a grey against
white, he thought, he
said: the time is right,
and the season cajoled,
and peaceful, what is
to do, is done in the
coldness of the cold
sun, and in a night as
light, as white as day,
I put the mind away.
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