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the heart
for pen

in the construction
of the chest, there is
a heart.

a boat
upon its blood
floats past

and round or down
the stream of life,
the plummeting veins

permit its passage
to admit no gains,
no looking back.

one steps aboard,
one's off.
the ticket taker

signs the time allotted.
seated, amorphous persons
see no scenery

but feel
a chill about their knees
and hear a fading cry

as all the many sides of life
whiz by,
a blast at best, a loss

of individual impressions.
still i sit
with you inside me too—

and us
the couple thus encoupled,
ride on into the sweetening dark.


© robert creeley
from if i were writing this

Date: 2009-04-30 07:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] toddpage.livejournal.com
This is a truly sweet poem.

Cute, and lovely.

Thanks for sharing.

Date: 2009-05-01 02:09 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] tkn1114.livejournal.com
I'm inspired to write about another favorite body part :-) Being Marcel Jouhandoux-ed by this.

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