Robert Creeley Books

Perfectly perfect -- This catalogue of Clemente expects total satisfaction of the senses to achieve self-definition.
And it gets it, definitely.

Clemente quoted De Chirico once in an interview with Vanity Fair, "What Shall I love if not the enigma." Clemente's paintings, indeed, exhibit a mysterious charm that invites the viewers into the artist's inner world of Indian mysticism and physcial beauty. Juxtaposed with Robert Creeley's poetry, this volume of fantastic and sensual paintings clearly is a must for all Clemente fans. From Napoli to New York, Clemente has wooed the jet-setters on both sides of the Atlantic, establishments such as the Guggenheim in New York, and me, a Yale College student.

I was lucky enough to catch his show at the Guggenheim several years ago and have been desperately coveting this book since. Clemente works on a large scale, so capturing his imposing imagery can be tough (to be mild). However, in an endeavor to capture the man through his works, this large-scoped voluminous edition works wonders at the foot of the mountain. The best of the attempts, it's like a conversation with the man himself.

A must have for art lovers, a must have for romantics, a must have for any library or coffee table. It's a lovely book, full true color, and a ripe collection of his works. A good work, and well worth anyone's time.

This is a must have for anyone intersted in beautiful and thought provoking material. It is a thorough look at this imaginative artist's work. It will be a source of inspiration I will look to time and again!

Dorfman has been making color portraits in her Boston studio for several years, and many great examples of her work are collected here for the first time.

This is a book worth waiting for. Dormfan's casual looking though skillfully executed photographs of ordinary people are a wonderful document both for her sitters and those of us who love well done portraits.

Here's hoping she will never retire, and that all of us might be fortunate enough to find our way before her lens.

Here is a wonderful collaboration between two artists. Creeley's poem is more than simply descriptive of Dorfman's photos, portraits which are more than simply illustrative of his words. This compact, hardcover book is to be "read" and reread in an entirely new way. For one whose exposure to poetry has been limited since the end of his formal education, "En Famille" is a real revelation.

It is also a great opportunity to obtain a miniature album of Elsa Dorfman's work for one's very own. The photos, featuring faces both famous and less celebrated, those whose troubles may be widely known or only guessed at, really do capture the beauty of the subjects' humanity in ways we may not stop often enough to notice. They are beautifully reproduced on good quality, acid-free paper.

Perhaps because Shakespeare, Swinburne and Homer are three of my all-time favorite poets, Robert Burns blows me away. His words (filled with an intriguing old Scottish dialect) are like lyrics, verses of songs--tumultuous one moment and subtle and serene the next, but always apparent that swarthy Scottish accent.

In this little, GIFT-SIZED book, THE ESSENTIAL BURNS, the most appealing poems for me are: "A DREAM," "A RED, RED ROSE," and, believe it or not, a short poem called "THE LOUSE" (strangely, probably his best known piece.) I was disappointed by the absence of his poems on the sea, what I consider to be his most compelling, inspirational work. But there is plenty here to dig in to.

Because of his thick, olde-Scottish dialect, many readers and students of literature finds him difficult to read and, sometimes, impossible to understand. But stay with it, I tell them, and when they do they usually end the term feeling much more amiable toward Burns and much more confident of their own poetry-reading abilities.

Perhaps because Shakespeare, Swinburne and Homer are three of my all-time favorite poets, Robert Burns blows me away. His words (filled with an intriguing old Scottish dialect) are like lyrics, verses of songs--tumultuous one moment and subtle and serene the next, but always apparent that swarthy Scottish accent.

In this little, GIFT-SIZED book, THE ESSENTIAL BURNS, the most appealing poems for me are: "A DREAM," "A RED, RED ROSE," and, believe it or not, a short poem called "THE LOUSE" (strangely, probably his best known piece.) I was disappointed by the absence of his poems on the sea, what I consider to be his most compelling, inspirational work. But there is plenty here to dig in to.

Because of his thick, olde-Scottish dialect, many readers and students of literature finds him difficult to read and, sometimes, impossible to understand. But stay with it, I tell them, and when they do they usually end the term feeling much more amiable toward Burns and much more confident of their own poetry-reading abilities.

"History was "'istorin," which Olson took from Herodotus and used not as a noun or concept, but, rather, as a verb, "to find out for yourself." ---Robert Creeley, from his preface.

Charles Olson is a poet of poignant searching. Throughout this volume, confidently compiled by Olson's longtime friend and correspondent, Robert Creeley, Olson seems to be finding out for himself what it is to be human. In the soliloquy poem, "Maximus, to himself" (taken from Olson's magnum opus, The Maximus Poems), Olson shows that this process involves the discussion of feelings of inadequacy. He describes the frustration of "[standing] estranged / from that which was most familiar," when "the sharpness (the achiote) / I note in others, / makes more sense / than my own distances." Here, Olson seems to want to attain a certain quickness of mind which he sees as an essential human characteristic. The qualities he admires in others are mixed, though, as when he says of Sappho (in "For Sappho, Back"): "with a bold / she looked on any man, / with a shy eye." Her power seems to come in her duality, her ability to appear both "bold" and "shy." This discussion of Sappho shows that Olson is concerned with the classical world, but he can also be an achingly banal poet as when, in "As the Dead Pray Upon Us," he remembers his dead mother, saying, "And if she sits in happiness the souls / who trouble her and me / will also rest. The automobile // has been hauled away." A truly great poet, Olson realized that the real history is that of the self, in all its foibles, contradictions, and blisses.

Charles Olson (1910-1970) was one of the most important American poets of the 20th Century. In this volume, Olson friend Robert Creeley has chosen most of the poems that I would have chosen for such a volume. He has included such works as "An Ode on Nativity" and "The Twist" which help celebrate the city of his birth and youth, Worcester MA. Creeley fairly evenly divides the book between choosing from The Collected Poems and The Maximus Poems. The only poem that is not in this excellent volume that I would have included is "Ferrini 1," Olson's tribute to his brilliant friend, Vincent Ferrini. Buy this book!

Bob Creeley was perhaps the original beatnik, a quiet man who turned himself outward and in so doing made a great impression upon the world with his work and his persona. We should all know more about him -- his best poems (of his many fine ones) should be with us always.

Creeley won me over early, in junior high, when my teacher at the time handed a well thumbed book of Mr. Creeley's poetry. From the first page I was caught up in a wonderful tangled world of poems constructed from small moments of happy introspection - given a kind of sincere reverence by Mr. Creeley's intense scrutiny of what even a small moment can mean; a drunken dinner, a ride in a Cadillac, a slice of apple pie topped with ice cream - these moments becomes a minor religious awakening in the hands of Robert Creeley. He is by far my favorite poet, likely because my own small epiphanies are so much like those he writes of.

Libbie Rifkin shines light on the work of four avant- garde poets who created a poetry culture where they could reign, preeminent. If ever there were a movement in art history that could only "be understood backwards, but must be lived forwards" (to paraphrase Kierkegaard,) it was the avant-garde. Now an American institution, avant-gardism can be more fully understood.

Focusing on four major literary figures of the 50's and 60's: Charles Olson, Robert Creeley, Louis Zukofsky, and Ted Berrigan, Career Moves guides us through to their eventual prominence. All four poets followed in the heat of the Beat poets, and capitalized on that movement, coming into their own with a fervor which could be described as the making of poetry in service to the self. The term `avant-garde' leads us to think of breaking old forms to create new, thus seeing its practitioners as revolutionaries and iconoclasts. A contrary point made by Rifkin is how imperialistic these avant-gardists were, and how they contrived to manipulate public taste by creating poetry which was doctrinaire. Ezra Pound, more than others, influenced these four, more even than W.C. Williams or Wallace Stevens. Pound's famous "ego as beak" (to "drive through the material") was the philosophy Olson and Creeley used to create an empire of solipsistic literature, in defiance of the Academy, at the same time courting the universities to promulgate and sustain their works. Their art was born and breasted of such contradictions.

Arrogance, yes. Self-styled critics and self appointed cultural anthropologists that they were, the facts remain: these are four of the most interesting writers in the history of American poetry. Charles Olson's projectivism, using breath to determine the line on the page, has changed the reading, writing and teaching of poetry forevermore. Creeley's magnificent epigrammatic poems established a new morality for word order. Zukofsky's life long poetic fugues are a testament to experimentation, and Berrigan's lust for recognition objectified the daily act (Frank O'Hara's legacy,) taking all to a new level of poetic exhibitionism. There is genius in each.

Libbie Rifkin gives us insight into the making of the new poetry. For example, she points to Berrigan's appropriation of other poets -- composition, tone, and language. She refers especially to his imitation of John Ashbery's poems. One has to believe Ashbery is a saint, completely without ego, for his acceptance of these practices. The book could have uncovered more here for our satisfaction and curiosity, but Rifkin doesn't go for pure literary gossip. The greater good Berrigan thought, was of course to pay tribute to the hero, Ashbery. The immediate effect, not lost on Berrigan, is that many of us don't have the means to credit the work properly and so, attribute to Berrigan work which wins the day. Much that followed this, however, is ground-breaking. The small literary magazines that ignored tables of content, authorship of poems etc. are pretty exciting in the creating of a new poetry ego within the pages. Poetic assemblage was born.

Throughout the book we are shown that nothing was written that wasn't consciously designed to construct a literary reputation. What is different? Looking at today's poets, most want recognition, few write for obscurity, and fame is certainly the goal. What distinguishes these four poets, then, according to Rifkin was the dogged authoritarianism in their roles as editors, in their writings and teachings - their "Homosocial " culture - and the incorporation of traditional works within the text.

The reader always wonders how far away any artist can go without turning back. Not far it seems. It is fascinating to see how heavily Shakespeare and European classical music figure in the work of our four. If anything, I would like to have seen how America's other avant-garde art forms (visual arts, music etc) factored into the manuscripts. We are content to imagine the broken line and off beat syntax as evidence However these were first the property of the modernists of the 50's. So what art forms of the time influenced them? We do not see this explicated in their texts.

Career Moves matters largely because the poets, Orson, Creeley, Zukofsky and Berrigan, matter to us. In my generation they are contemporaneous with the love of poetry itself. It's doubtful that many of us would have been drawn to the ongoing energy of poetry had it not been for these men and their bold innovations and powerful poetic disciplines.

Few scholars have concentrated before on how and when poetry was marketed. In today's presence of flamboyant PR and endless cultural commerce, we can now see how other "sociopoetic practices" figured. Public consumption is always an end in itself, a manufactured act, yet designers make taste and great poets do also. The study of their `career moves' interests us on all levels, mostly because suspicion of what goes into making people famous is finally satisfied by fact. It is impossible for me to forget that fame is an Italian word for hunger.

Libbie Rifkin's scholarly explorations and mastery of material combine with a language we had forgotten to expect from our critics, and a prose style we can be grateful for. This means that in the field of literary history Libbie Rifkin has authored a book for us to read and reread, not only in preparation for the classroom but for our own personal fulfillment and pleasure. Besides, who would not be attracted to a mythology of four men who have created a poetry society by their own imaginations of greatness. And who would not want to follow their every career move.

Grace Cavalieri is the author of several books of poetry, the latest Cuffed Frays (Argonne House Press.) Her most recent play "Pinecrest Rest Haven" premiered at NYC's Common Basis Theatre in NYC in 2001. She produces and hosts "The Poet and the Poem from the Library of Congress" broadcast via NPR satellite to public radio.

This article was originally written for THE MONTSERRAT REVIEW issue #6 Spring 2002 ....

Only Butterick and Creely could have demonstrated the significance that Charles Olson imparted upon the world of post-modern poetry. For those familiar and unfamiliar with the works of this poet, this collection, although only a mere smattering of the magnitude of Olson, provides an imposing insight to the depth and mastery of modern poetry.

I don't think a book has so pleased me in years, just that it came so unintentionally to hand. I had been instrumental in getting City Honors School in Buffalo, NY online and then wanted to make some active contribution to the school's online writing program. The "Day Book" collects the pieces I thus wrote and then sent to the common listserv, CHOPS Online. As weeks and then months went by, they accumulated -- and I kept writing them all summer, despite school was out, because it became such fun. More than anything else, it was a place to say a great many things as a poet, to make clear what I valued, to witness the passing of friends as James Dickey, Allen Ginsberg and Denise Levertov, to keep the faith in my own way. Again, that it all becomes a book is a bonus I'd in no way anticipated. --Robert Creeley

This is the book which first put Creeley on the poetic map in a large way. It collects poems from three other previously published books. The title poem is the most well- known and perhaps the best known poem Creeley was to write.
Creeley in later years became much appreciated for his ability to encourage younger poets.
As a young poet he turned to William Carlos Williams for direction. And there is something similar in their writing especially the love of shorter poems, the connection with everyday speech, incident and life.
Creeley said he was not the person of great causes but that what he cared about was people, not in the abstract, but in specific and particular relationships. He had many friends who were poets, and his great friend and mentor Elder Olsen was with him in the founding of 'Black Mountain College'.
Creeley said of his own poetry that he wrote it in batches of six or seven poems, in a quiet place, and that he did not revise. His writing was connected intimately with speaking, and also with listening and improvising. There is a connection with jazz music also.
I find his work has a sincerity, and that his voice is one which demands to be trusted. I do not find that he has great music, nor do I know the kinds of memorable lines I most love. But that is just me.
Here is a small part of the title poem of this collection.
It is an excerpt but it gives a true feeling of the kind of tentative, spoken , direct and often moving poetry he writes.



"Love, what do I think
to say. I cannot say it.
What have you become to ask,
what have I made you into,


companion, good company,
crossed legs with skirt, or
soft body under
the bones of the bed.


Nothing says anything
but that which it wishes
would come true, fears
what else might happen in


some other place, some
other time not this one.
A voice in my place, an
echo of that only in yours.


Let me stumble into
not the confession but
the obsession I begin with
now. For you


also (also)
some time beyond place, or
place beyond time, no
mind left to


say anything at all,
that face gone, now.
Into the company of love
it all returns."

You don't want to miss the new version of Robin Blaser's lifework THE HOLY FOREST, now considerably larger than the version I remember when Talon Books put it out back in 1993, by maybe another hundred pages or so. He, Blaser, is one of the poets the USA lost to Canada during a time of international turmoil, a time when crossing borders might have been a little bit easier than today and escape was still possible. He had been a slow starter, perhaps, in the days of the Berkeley Renaissance of the 1940s, and it might be that not until he moved to Boston to work in Harvard's Widener Library, and met Charles Olson and the US poets of the East Coast, could his particular genius truly blossom. (More than any other contemporary poet, it is Blaser who needs a proper biography written about him, and yet what a daunting challenge to try to tell the story of a life spent nosing down so many divagations and turning up so many splendors.) On his return to the Bay Area in the very late 1950s, he became an integral part of a then-lively San Francisco poetry scene, his friendships with the California poets Robert Duncan and Jack Spicer then productive to overflowing. In THE HOLY FOREST you can see these concentric circles of poetic influence and Rauschenbergian "combine" expand and contract, expand and contract, within the first hundred pages of the book, like the movement of the glaciers that produced our islands and outcroppings. After that, and his move to Canada, a certain perfection is reached that never really drops off.

Underlying this achievement, Blaser moved in opposite directions at once, perhaps trusting his muse more than ever, a contradictory one for sure, one that was leading him to go more and more slangy, colloquial, partial, aphoristic and playful; and then on what in a lesser poet you might call an opposite direction, he became the poet of lengthening odes and longer forms. You would ask him how a particular poem was shaping up, and with a mixture of marvel and abasement he might whisper, "It's now over fifteen pages--just grew," he would add. And so we have the "Great Companions," and "Exody," and the rest, these intricate, phenomenal structures. If you could visualize the poems in THE HOLY FOREST as real trees, spreading in visual space as they have in time, you might see towards the end of the range huge redwoods, where before you had had mere groves of oak, maple, and cherry. In our time he has been all things together the best kept secret of postmodern poetry; it's just fantastic that Cal has seen fit to issue this book--not only this, but a companion volume of collected essays ("The Fire"). May the saints preserve him, as my mother used to say, when she wanted to make sure someone most dear would stay safe and unafraid.