Suppose it all turns into, again,
just the common, the expected
people, and places, the distance
only some change and possibly one
or two among them all, gone–
that word again–or simply more
alone than either had been
when you’d first met them. But you
also are not the same,
as if whatever you were were
the memory only, your hair, say,
a style otherwise, eyes now
with glasses, clothes even
a few years can make look
out of place, or where you
live now, the phone, all of it
changed. Do you simply give
them your address? Who?
What’s the face in the mirror then.
Who are you calling.
Leonard Durso 
Creeley always makes me dryly dizzy.
Yeah, he can do that to you. But I enjoy his playfulness, even with topics that one would not think you could play with.
And congratulations again on the publication.
That is true, and he can get deep quickly before you know it–that is the dizziness I get reading him. His poems seem so lightly packed, like for lunch, but he goes wherever he wants to, whether it’s meadow or mountain.
That’s a great description: from meadow to mountain.
And it is perfect for Creeley.
I love that opening line.
Glad you liked the Creeley. He’s one of my favorite American poets.
Your blog is refreshing my love for poetry…:)
Thank you, Robert. That’s the nicest thing anyone could say.
You’re welcome…I enjoy your love for poetry.
Thank you again.
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