new old kid on the blog,
with an occasional
old or new poem written off
the old writer's block
Talking of rolling heads and naked babbling seers in baskets -- Comes the time when it’s laterand onto your table the headwaiter puts the bill, and very soon afterrings 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—So that’s you, man,or me. I make it as I can, I pick up, I gofaster than they know—Out the door, the street like a night, any night, and no one in sight, but then, well, there she is,old friend Liz—And she opens the door of her cadillac, I step in back,and we’re gone.She turns me on—There are very huge stars, man, in the sky,and from somewhere very far off someone hands me a slice of apple pie,with a gob of white, white ice cream on top of it, and I eat it—Slowly. And while certainlythey are laughing at me, and all around me is racket of these cats not making it, I make itin my wicker basket.Robert Creeley: A Wicker Basket
Dressed to kill: wonderful.Zambaras/Creeley - weaving that off-kilter beauty.
Creeley shows us what to look for and how it should be done whereas "The Squint-eyed Kid" needs to have his mind's eye examined again.