Robert Creeley Books

Robert Creeley died last year, an event he expected and understood as well as any poet ever has. This collection of his last writings is a treasure to those of us who fell under his inspiring and straightforward spell of writing: it is an apt epitaph to a man whose poems caressed the human condition and accepted death as a final stanza to life.

Creeley embraced Buddhism in its vision of the panoply of existence. His works reflect his need to address aging as part of living, the importance of memory in the persistence of those departed: his poems have always included elegies to old friends that embody his perception of the life process. In 'For Ric, who Loved the World' he sighs 'The sounds/ of his particular/ music echoing,/ stay in the soft/ air months after/ all's gone to/ grass, to lengthening/ shadows, to slanting/ sun on shifting water,/ to the late light's edges/ through tall trees -/ despite the mind's/ still useless,/ ponderous thought.'

Included in this poignant volume is the text of an essay exploring the late verse of Walt Whitman. It is a fitting tribute to poets of the past and a warm tie to those for whom Robert Creeley was one of the truly affectionately respected poets of our country. Highly Recommended. Grady Harp, May 06

Although his masterpiece is titled "Of Being Numerous", George Oppen (1908 -- 1984) led a singular life and wrote in a singular voice. His poetry explores the tensions between the multiplicity of images, places, ideas, and people, and the solitary self. This selection of Oppen's poetry edited by Robert Creeley includes poems from each of Oppen's published books together with an introductory essay by Creeley, Oppen's only essay, and a useful chronology. It is an excellent introduction to a too-little known American poet.

Oppen led a singular life in that, among other reasons, he began his writing career in the mid-1930s and then underwent a 24-year silence before returning to poetry in 1958. During this time, Oppen travelled with his wife, Mary, worked as a social activist and as a machinist, served in the U.S. Army during WW II, and was active in the communist party. His writing reflects a varied and complex life.

Oppen's poetic voice was also singular. In the mid-1930's he became associated with other important American poets, including William Carlos Williams, Carl Rakosi, Louis Zukofsky, and Charles Reznikoff who wrote in a style described as "objectivist". Their writing aims at conciseness, understatement and particularity. Oppen and his peers tried to create a new poetic language free of convention and stock responses and showing -- or being -- a perception of the world. Oppen's poetry remains true throughout to the teachings of objectivism. But his writing seems to me more philosophically oriented and tends more to a treatment of ideals and questions than the poetry of his fellows.

In the 1960's, Oppen deepened his friendship with the Jewish-American poet Charles Reznikoff and often toured and read with him. Reznikoff's poetry is clear and simple and frequently trends towards Jewish themes. Reznikoff has always been one of my quiet heroes. I find Oppen much harder to read. And, although he was born to an assimilated Jewish family, there is little of Jewish content in Oppen's poetry. Still, there are commonalities between the two.

A poem I particularly enjoyed in this collection was "Image of the Engine" written in 1962. This poem is in five short sections and has been the subject of considerable commentary. It contrasts the cold, impersonal character of a machine, and of the mechanistic civilization based upon it, with the human heart, the need for love and companionship and with "the heart thundering/Absolute desire". Walt Whitman was throughout a great influence on Oppen. I find the best way to approach this poem is as exploring the same themes as Whitman's famous poem, "To a Locomotive in Winter". I don't think Oppen accepts Whitman's optimism on the role of the machine.

But the greatest poem in this book is Oppen's long work, "Of Being Numerous" for which he received the Pulitzer Prize in 1969. This is a poem in 40 short sections which is richly allusive to Blake, William Carlos Williams, and Whitman, among many others. The poem ends with a prose quotation from Whitman.

Oppen begins his poem:

"There are things
We live among 'and to see them
Is to know ourselves'."

Much of the poem is a celebration of the diversity of life and experiences in Manhattan coupled with reflections on how the heart of the individual remains one and itself through the multiplicity. (Hence the title and the discussion of "numerosity") In its reflections on numerosity and on the individual, Oppen takes up again Whitman's themes. But he does so in a restrained, disciplined, and focused style. The poem moves seamlessly through a variety of issues such as love, war, social activism and the role of poetry. It is a great modern American poem in the tradition of Whitman but in a unique voice.
Although lengthy, "Of Being Numerous" is more accessible and easier to follow than many of the shorter, more crystallized poems included in this volume.

I also enjoyed Oppen's collection "Some San Francisco Poems" (1972) which does for San Francisco what "Of Being Numerous" does for Manhattan. Oppen was a wanderer and describes the sea, the Bahamas, the European Theatre of WW II, his birthplace of New Rochelle and other places throughout his poetry. But I am most taken with his settings in New York and San Franciso and with his descriptions of industrialization and modernity.

Oppen's poetry needs to be read and reread over time. His is a precious voice.

Poor poetry. Either it smothers under tons of academic pretension, or it is retailed as pop entertainment in poetry slams. It seems sometimes that Robert Pinsky is the only one with a good handle on the popular appeal of this emotional/intellectual art. But I bet you Pinsky has this book and refers to it regularly. This is the most hard-headed, economical poetry criticism, completely free of cant and pretension; equally free of stylishness. Zukovsky gives us, as Donald Barthelme once wrote, "the red meat on the rug." The form of the book is disarmingly simple: Selected quotes, side by side, with the occasional footnote. Zukovsky lets you figure things out yourself, and when you refer to his notes, you are nearly always rewarded with the notion that you and he are at least on the same planet when it comes to deciding what is good and what is not so good about poetry. Some of the selections in Middle English or Scots dialect are tough going, but you soon discover that it is as much sound as meaning that is important. In any event, there are plentiful and helpful footnotes. If you're lucky, you've never read any poetry criticism and can leap into this book unbiased and unafraid. If (like your reviewer) you had to read a lot of it in college, you'll feel positively liberated.

Using simple phrases and a lot of white space, Robert Creeley is a innovator of modern verse that suffuses mystery into the mundune. He is straightforward, spare, uses very few metaphors. He is an absolute master of measure, using the sound of the words and the pauses in between to create beautiful, haunting verse. It is difficult to be cerebral while reading his work, the poetry never explains or describe but is made to be experienced as a bodily phenomenon. It engages a quieter, deeper more subtle appreciation challenging for a modern readership used to instant gratifications.

Out of all of my books it is the only one that for over 15 years I have read something from everyday.
I think the sign of a good book is one that you can open randomly and always be turned around by the words before you.

these poems and the silence surrounding them are uncanny. I know no other word for it. he makes ordinary statements sound interesting because of his uncanny phrasing and subtle line breaks. you can learn more about writing from an hour spent with creeley's work than with just about anyone else, except ashbery.

William Carlos Williams seems to me the poet closest to Creeley, or the one Creeley is closest to. Small lines of ordinary speech and life which occasionally come more alive and striking. Creeley it seems to me presents a kind of stream- of- consciousness of what he sees now. He is famous for his line- breaks and knowing how to stop the sound and sight in the right place. What he feels and believes about life and love is perhaps given in the fact that he was known as the most congenial conversationalist of poets, and also one most generous to others. He loved the word ' home' and wrote in his last years much about the process of 'aging' .

Quite like Creeley's/ older lines, but/ longer/ and more particular/ even in/ their ambiguity./ Now when/ he's not sure/ he's not/ so nervous./ Lovely really.

Actually I liked it./ Really like it./ Read it aloud/ over breakfast sometimes./

Ginsberg happens to be the father of the beat generation, a generation that many dismiss. Ginsberg comes to understand death in the pages of political tongue lashing's and calling them out like a showdown at the "OK". Buy this book and understand a dying man's dream of innocent fame.
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I recommend this title to anyone who enjoys good poetry. There is something extremely "real" about Ginsberg, always has been, and he shows that realness in these last few poems before he died. "Things I Will Not Do," which was the last poem he wrote before dying, brings a tear to my eye almost every time I think about it. We could all hope to approach our ends with the kind of dignity that Ginsberg seems to have.

When one first approaches this book, one can't help but be drawn in by Ginsberg's knowing smile. His life experiences, loves, and tragedies can all be summed up within this book. However, the many monumental poems in this book("Things I Will Not Do", etc.) are spaced apart with lymerics, catchy tunes, and mostly toilet humor. When both reading about Ginsberg, and reviewing his earlier work, a person feels a sense of awe and wonder. A person begins to look upon the world with new eyes. However, I felt a little let down after reading this one. I just felt most of the poems to be far too juvenile, and this really detracts from the over all concept, and sentimentality of the book. I'd really consider this a "half-n'-half" book. Half was good, and half was not. If anyone is looking into this book for a first look into Ginsberg, I strongly advise you read his earlier stuff first.

Well, this is definitely not Ginsberg's best work, there is no question about that. I am a great admirer of his poetry, but even before this I felt his best work was done years ago with only scattered gems in the later years. I bought this book solely because i wanted the first edition of his last collection of poems. I would like to comment on the Kirkus review that appears here .... to say that the Beat writers, Ginsberg in particular, are a "sociological phenomenon (not an artistic one) that loses its bite out of its historical context" is outrageous. Perhaps the person that wrote those words never read "Kaddish" ... it is personal, beautiful, and timeless, as are a great number of his poems. His last collection may be weak but let us not trivialize the rest of his great career. Buy the first edition hardcover of this book even if you will not read it ... years from now when Ginsberg is recognized as one of this century's greatest poets your heirs will have a nice first edition of his last work.

I thought long and hard about what to say about this final collection of Ginsberg's. As a poet, he was one of the best, and it is out of sentiment and respect that made me want to like his final poems. But in reality, they do not stand up to his former work. I almost find it hard to believe that this is the same man who wrote Howl, Kaddish, and others. It was interesting to see what Ginsberg's state of mind was at the end. It would appear that it was mostly scatological thoughts and political ravings. Not that I mind those types of poems, if they are well written. But still, it is a collection that I would recommend for your personal library, if only because it is Ginsberg's last. Though there were some good poems and interesting thoughts in this collection. We will miss Ginsberg.

I first read Kerouac's writtings over 30 years ago. The content of this work is firm but is limited in it's scope and focus. The author usually slips into a tanghent that not many of us would comprehend unless we had lived in the 1960's.

Contains the outstanding 'Desolation Blues'. Otherwise unremarkable

this book has so many unique qualities to it, and they all focus so much on Kerouac's unusual lifestyle... the book, with it's so many chouruses is an inspiration!

Book of Blues is an important piece of writing that chronicles an important time in Kerouac's life and works well with Desolation Angels. As I read Desolation Angels, I noticed that Jack Duluoz makes references to various works of poetry as he moves through the book and Book of Blues contains many of those poems. Desolation Blues was written about his time on Desolation Peak and accompanies that section of the book well. You begin to understand Jack's thoughts and anxities better. Later Jack is in Mexico City writing Mexico City Blues but he also wrote Orizabo(I believe) at the same time, at least according to Desolation Angels. Orizabo Blues can be seen as the outakes or the preparaton from Mexico City Blues. Later on in the book, Jack Duluoz is back in Mexico City after his trip to Europe and during these times he wrote Cerrera Medellin blues. Other Blues not included in Book of Blues though mentioned in Desolatioin Angels are Washington, D.C. Blues and Tangier Blues which have yet to be published. Book of Blues is an important book to the Kerouac canon.

Kerouac's Book of Blues is an important book for anyone interested in Kerouac's spontaneous style of writing. For those more familiar with his novels and prose Book of Blues will open a more pure and raw form of verse than even "On the Road". Kerouac was truly a poet at heart. To get the full effect of this book which reaaly needs to be read aloud to full experience I also highly recommend Kerouac's Blues & Haikus CD which contains him reading several of the poems in Book of Blues.

As a longtime reader of Robert Creeley's work, I was looking
forward to this biography. I should have figured that Creeley
would not authorize a "traditional" biographer, and Ekbert Faas's
juxtaposition of different perspectives and inclusion of a huge
chunk of (Creeley's first wife) Ann MacKinnon's autobiography/
diary as a 100 page coda make the book somewhat non-traditional
(although the "life-writing" technique, where the "voice" of
Creeley is present in the narrative, should be familiar to
any reader of Nick Tosches' fine biography of Dean Martin).
Creeley's pre-1970 poems would sometimes take a seemingly autobiographical moment and view it in intense detail, or take
a slice of the persona's stream-of-consciousness and break it
down into extreme close-up (not just to the level of the word,
but to the level of the syllable). This biography now provides
the "background" for those works. Many intimate details are given, but fortunately we are spared TOO MUCH intimate detail
and Mr. Creeley is able to keep some things private!
The book also does a fine job of showing Creeley's complex
relationships with literary figures and the literary community
over the years--RC has always devoted a lot of time to championing the
work of his fellow writers (and thus turned me on
to many writers who have become important components in my life--
thank you, Mr. Creeley!).
My only complaint about this book is that right near the end (before the MacKinnon narrative), biographer Faas pretty much
trashes the 80s/90s career of Creeley. It's as if Creeley's
work (and, as written by Faas, his life too!) has become bland
and commercial because RC is no longer as combative and angry
and frayed-at-the-edges. This reminds me of the people who
accuse punk-rockers of "selling out" when they stop cutting themselves with razorblades and smashing their heads against
concrete walls when they get past age 40. What's wrong with
Mr. Creeley enjoying life more, settling down, finding the
eternal verities in the commonplace, and being a happy person?
I admire the man's ability to evolve, and his work still uses
language in fresh and unexpected ways while leading me to see
life and relationships in similarly fresh and unexpected ways.
Faas's inability to see the "whole picture" of Creeley's life
leads me to question how much he really understood Creeley at
ANY period in his life.
Still, this is a necessary work for any Creeley reader or anyone
who cares about post-WWII American poetry.
I also commend Creeley for allowing his biographer such freedom (I'm reminded of Bob Dylan's film DON'T LOOK BACK
in that way), although I came away from the book with even more
respect for the man. Poetry is an important part of many people's
lives thanks to Robert Creeley (both through his own pioneering
work and his tireless championing of and providing an entryway into others' works), and this book does give the reader a sense
of the man behind the work.

This is the most important collection of Levertov's poetry. It takes a sampling from every collection she published, showing the growth and versatility of her poetic line. If there is no Collected Poems, where one can have everything, then this gives an acceptable one-volume representation that is quite worthwhile.

It is annoying to read "experts" on writing who apparently lack self-critique as concerns their own writing. As example:

"Kora in Hell: Improvisations (Boston: Four Seas, 1920) is a unique work for its time and place. . ."

Try this:

"Kora in Hell: Improvisations (Boston: Four Seas, 1920) is unique for its time and place."

Now tell us why "place" is relevant, or delete "and place" from the sentence, though it would be better to strike any sentence which includes the word "unique," it being one of the most over- and misused words in the language.

This book was one of the most interesting books i have ever read! A deffinate best seller!