Reading some Robert Creeley poems one day a voice
popped into my head--earnest,
direct, sincere--not my "bad poetry"
voice, not a parody of anything else.
It didn't (doesn't) sound like Creeley--
fortunately I am a bad mimic, but
reading him lodged loose an obstacle
in my head, let me speak, so to speak,
as myself. Still, it is a "persona"
deliberately assumed, among
several possibilities. But a persona
allowing the expression of sincere beliefs
along with some insincere ones,
I suppose. Then I got to thinking
all poems should be prose poems
except the ones that aren't.
To not be prose, it would have to rise
to the level of being cantabile. This would
be a rare event, and