Conjunctions:21 The Credos Issue

Creo qui si … I believe 
it will rain
tomorrow …
I believe 
the son of a bitch

is going into the river …
I believe All men are 
created equal
—By your
leave a leafy

shelter over the exposed
person—I’m a 
of habit but without

out there a void of 
pattern older 
older the broken 
pieces no longer

salvageable bits 
but incommensurate 
chips yet must 
get it back together.

In God we 
 emptiness privilege 
will not not perish 
perish from this earth—

In particular echo 
of inside pushes 
at edges all these years
collapse in slow motion.

The will to believe, 
the will to be good, 
the will to want 
a way out—

Humanness, like 
you, man. Us—pun 
for once beyond reflective 
mirror of brightening prospect?

I believe what it was 
was a hope it could be
somehow what it was 
and would so continue.

A plank to walk out on, 
fair enough. Jump! said the pirate.
Believe me if all 
those endearing young charms …

Here, as opposed to there, 
even in confusions there seems 
still a comfort, 
still a faith.

I’d as lief 
not leave, not 
go away, not 
not believe.

I believe in belief …
All said, whatever I can think of
comes from there, 
goes there.

As it gets now impossible 
to say, it’s your hand 
I hold to, still 
your hand. 

Robert Creeley (1926–2005) was one of the great poets of the twentieth century. Caves (Paradigm Press) was published in early 2005 in a limited edition. Other works include Earth, a collection of his last poems which was published by the University of California postmortem, as well as an essay Whitman in Age. In 2005, Conjunctions published memorial tributes to Creeley by nearly one hundred fellow writers in its online edition.