Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Robert Creeley's The Rain (Commonplace Book)

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent--
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

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.


jennifert72 said...

very nice. contemporary american poet?

Geoff Klock said...

yes, still alive I think.

Anonymous said...

Thank you for posting this. You introduced me to this poem years ago and I loved it then, but, like anything worth enjoying, it means something new to me know. I love how good work hits you in new places at every reading.

Anonymous said...

Robert Creeley passed away in 2005 -- it is a beautiful poem