Robert Creeley:

The Gift

The Conspiracy


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The Gift

He hands
down the gift
as from a great
height, his

understanding clothed
in miraculous
fortitude. This

is the present
of the ages, all
in itself

But the lady--
she, disdain-
ful, all
in white for

the occasion--cries
out petutlantly, is
that all, is
that all, is
that all.

The Conspiracy

You send me your poems,
I'll send you mine.

Things tend to awaken
even through random communication

Let us suddenly
proclaim spring. And jeer

at the others,
all the others.

I will send a picture too
if you will send me one of you.



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