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Creo que 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
believer creature
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
trust 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, "Credo" from The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1975-2005. Copyright © 2006 by Robert Creeley.  Reprinted by permission of University of California Press.
Source: The Collected Poems of Robert Creeley, 1975-2005. (University of California Press, 2006)
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