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We never have been able to resist the incomparable lure of Bob Creeley here at this recording, and we have recently come into possession (as in, I went to The Strand this afternoon to pick it up) of Creeley’s verse journal during his tour of Southeast Asia from February 29th, 1976 to May 3 of the same year, titled Hello.
Most of the poems included are given a dateline. This particular excerpt reads Palmerston North at the top, which, we learn via wikipedia, is the main city on the North Island of New Zealand. I didn’t even know there were two islands in New Zealand, so there ya go.
SOUP
by Robert Creeley
I know what you’d say
if I could as you–
but I’m tired of it–
no word, nothing again.
Letter from guy says,
“she looks well,
happy, working hard–”
Forget it.
I’m not there.
I’m really here,
sitting,
with my hat on.
It’s a great day
in New Zealand
more or less.
I’m not alone in this.
Lady out window hangs clothes,
reds and blues–
basket, small kid,
clothespins in mouth.
Do I want to fuck,
or eat?
No problem.
There’s a telephone.
I know what you mean,
now “down under” here,
that each life’s
got its own condition
to find,
to get on with.
I suppose it’s
letting go, finally,
that spooks me.
And of course my arms
are full as usual.
I’m the only one I know.
May I let this be
West Acton, and
myself six? No,
I don’t travel that way
despite memories
all the dear or awful
passages apparently
I’ve gone through.
Back to the weather,
and dripping nose
I truly wanted to forget here,
but haven’t–
ok, old buddy,
no projections, no regrets.
You’ve been a dear friend
to me in my time.
If it’s New Zealand
where it ends,
that makes a weird sense
too. I’d never have guessed it.
Say that all the ways
are one–consumatum est
like some soup
I’d love to eat with you.
3/16
You may buy Hello: A Journal here.
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