i was working on some theology of grace for the book when i heard robert creely died, and also thinking about hollywood blondes and 50s movies, for an essay i may right, and then i click over to metafilter and i hear about it.

the thing with creeley–is it looks so fucking easy and conversational, so you sit down and say i can do this (and every poet in the last 20 yrs says to themselves i can do that)–i dont even have to know the allusions, i can write about talking or having a coke or going to the movies or that movie star i like…

but grace is so hard, its difficult to gain, it is given after living, and living hard.

the other thing is that he had this all new, all american, all wonderful, propulsive, and human working through of grace, as a series of happy aand not so happy accidents that laid out a compicated kind of intuitive heremeutics.

but w/o all the fancy words.