Robert Creeley
Suddenly the whole imagination of writing and editorial and newspaper and all these presumptions about who am I reading this, and who else other people may be, and all that, it's so grimly brutal!Collection: Imagination
That poetry survived in its formal agencies finally, and that prose survived to get something said.Collection: Poetry
It's the classic story form. All staying equal, or proving equal, or being equal, this will all continue, and the next time around, we'll move on to see what happened to Harry after he dove in the river, or who his friend John really was, and so on.
Again like Williams, with the emphasis now regrettable, when a man makes a poem, makes it mind you, he takes the words as he finds them lying interrelated about him.
All of which was OK, as that proved then, I certainly wouldn't contradict it as a necessary sense of things.
And what's fascinating in The Ten Thousand Things is that although there's time, an inexorable time of the three generations of lives, actively present, but place is the time, time doesn't really have to do with simply the human experience of it.
Don't name it, as they say, because instantly you offer it to this peculiar authority.
First you wonder if they're separate stories, but no, they're not, they're contingent stories and they form a pattern. And you begin with some of the island as the place to which the heroine of the book returns.
He lives out in Orchard Park. I mean, to be able to sit on the bench so patiently, for whatever part, and to be able to get up and do something, with such heroic competencies would be great.
It's as though all the terms of a family were present at one time rather than his dad and his mum. Not just a present authority, but the resident memory of what qualifies what else is the case.
The awful thing, as a kid reading, was that you came to the end of the story, and that was it. I mean, it would be heartbreaking that there was no more of it.
The irony of our social group is that so often everyone feels this, but there's no company whatsoever in that feeling. Think of Pound's great emphasis, the way out is via the door.
The pattern of the narrative never of necessity wants to end, it never has to.
There are a lot of editorials that have nothing to do with anything like that. But I was just thinking of that sense of prose as being very responsible and perceptive, thoughtful, intimate, and contriving a quote statement.
You were saying that once when visiting Yale, you were struck that unlike Pound, Williams's thinking was volatile, I mean, did not stay locked into a pattern of concepts that then defined his subsequent necessary behavior, whereas Pound did.
What has happened makes the world. Live on the edge, looking.Collection: Inspirational
Writing is the same as music. It’s in how you phrase it, how you hold back the note, bend it, shape it, then release it. And what you don’t play is as important as what you do say.Collection: Writing
What a great thing! To be a writer! Words are something you can carry in your head. You can really 'travel light.'Collection: Light
I know this body is impatient. I know I constitute only a meager voice and mind. Yet I loved, I love. I want no sentimentality. I want no more than home.Collection: Love
Communication is mutual feeling with someone, not a didactic process of information.Collection: Communication
Form is never more than an extension of content.Collection: Art
Locale is both a geographic term and the inner sense of being.Collection: Term
I don’t think any man writing can worry about what the act of writing costs him, even though at times he is very aware of it.Collection: Writing
O love, where are you leading me now?Collection: Leading Me
For love - I would split open your head and put a candle in behind the eyes.Collection: Eye
Hopefully, I write what I don't know.Collection: Writing
Still, no one finally knows what a poet is supposed either to be or to do. Especially in this country, one takes on the job—because all that one does in America is considered a "job"—with no clear sense as to what is required or where one will ultimately be led. In that respect, it is as particular an instance of a "calling" as one might point to. For years I've kept in mind, "Many are called but few are chosen." Even so "called," there were no assurances that one would be answered.Collection: Country
I did however used to think, you know, in the woods walking, and as a kid playing in the woods, that there was a kind of immanence there — that woods, and places of that order, had a sense, a kind of presence, that you could feel; that there was something peculiarly, physically present, a feeling of place almost conscious ... like God. It evoked that.Collection: Kids
No matter how wild reality was obviously often being, it was an absolutely secure place, as a tone and intelligence, and a thing happening.Collection: Reality
God give you pardon from gratitude and other mild forms of servitude.Collection: Gratitude
Moon, moon, when you leave me alone all the darkness is an utter blackness, a pit of fear, a stench, hands unreasonable never to touch. But I love you. Do you love me. What to say when you see me.Collection: Love You
Love, if you love me, lie next to me. Be for me, like rain, the getting out of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi- lust of intentional indifference. Be wet with a decent happiness.Collection: Lying
Suddenly the whole imagination of writing and editorial and newspaper and all these presumptions about who am I reading this, and who else other people may be, and all that, it’s so grimly brutal!Collection: Reading