Awful rushes at times
floating out in that emptiness
don't answer nothing for no one.

Seeing dear flesh float by--
days emptied of sun and wind,
hold on to trees and dirt.

Want it under me, body,
want legs to keep working--
don't think anymore of it.

You face passes down the street--
you hair that was so lovely,
your body, won't wait for me.

-Robert Creeley

One of my new books is Selected Poems Robert Creeley. How is it that I didn't have this book until now is a mystery, considering all the things I do have that are Creeleyian. Anyway, there was this poem on page 201.