Excerpt from

A Wicker Basket


Comes the time when it's later
and onto your table the headwaiter
puts the bill, and very soon after
rings out the sound of lively laughter--

Picking up change, hands like a walrus,
and a face like a barndoor's,
and a head without any apparent size,
nothing but two eyes--

Robert Creeley's homepage at Electronic Poetry Center

Robert Creeley at the Academy of American Poets

Robert Creeley at Poetry Foundation

Robert Creeley at Modern American Poetry

Interview with Robert Creeley by Bruce Comens

That insistent situation within, say, my own writing or the writing of others that I've been moved by, the attempt, so insistently singular, of finding a way out of the oppression of--not so much of the limiting social enclosures, that one wants to leave a small town--but far more the kind of enclosure obvious in Crime and Punishment or Kafka's The Trial or situations that are basically paranoid, where one feels like the only one in the universe who's out of step or out of sync or can't find the way through to the other side.

"After Lorca"

Robert Creeley