Robert Creeley by Matthew Specktor
Being a novelist is something of a maximalist’s game by definition. Why use one word when a hundred will do? Robert Creeley’s compressed-yet-voluptuous lyrics, by contrast, are almost entirely implication. O lady hear me. I have no/other/voice left. From them, I draw all sorts of things: courage, consolation, and the provoking-yet-hopeful uncertainty that reminds me of all there is to say, all there is that remains unsayable, yet might be conjured all the same.
-Matthew Specktor, author of That Summertime Sound
