Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Robert Creeley’s poem "For Benny and Sabina" is a vivid meditation on small, seemingly insignificant moments of life in Kyoto, where the speaker observes the world around him with a mix of wonder, reflection, and lightheartedness. The poem is imbued with a sense of place and cultural contrast, drawing the reader into a quiet, intimate scene where daily life unfolds in simple yet profound ways. Creeley’s voice here is conversational, yet deeply philosophical, as he muses on the nature of observation, time, and the meaning of existence in the face of small, passing moments.

The poem opens with an image of "Kids of Kyoto visible through split bamboo screen—across canal to street." This introduction immediately sets the scene, positioning the speaker as a detached observer, viewing life through a "split bamboo screen," a symbol of cultural immersion yet slight separation. The screen is a traditional element of Japanese architecture, emphasizing both openness and privacy. The speaker, though present in this foreign place, remains somewhat apart, gazing at the scene unfolding beyond the barrier. The canal, a traditional and picturesque element of Kyoto, marks a boundary between the inside and outside worlds, suggesting the speaker’s contemplative distance from the life he observes.

The first vivid image of action in the poem comes with the girl who "lifts her skirt, blue, to reveal red underpants her friend then examines." This playful, innocent moment captures the natural curiosity of children, underscoring the "small world" Creeley references next. The contrast between the blue skirt and red underpants highlights the vibrancy and small dramas of childhood, seemingly mundane but charged with significance when viewed through the lens of a distant observer. The image is one of simple, unselfconscious human behavior, magnified by the speaker’s attention.

Creeley’s reflection that "It’s a small world, these subtle wooden houses, sliding screens, mats on floor, water running so often within hearing" highlights his deep awareness of the nuances of his surroundings. The poem is filled with attention to small details—the construction of the houses, the sliding screens, the ever-present sound of water. These elements evoke the quiet, almost meditative atmosphere of Kyoto, where life seems to move at a slower, more deliberate pace. The mention of water running “within hearing” suggests a constant flow of time and life, which the speaker is attuned to, even if from a distance.

The poem then shifts tone with the entrance of the innkeeper: "the keeper of this tiny inn, a woman, laughs, thank god, as I crash from wall to wall." This self-deprecating moment adds a touch of humor to the poem, as the speaker acknowledges his own clumsiness in navigating this new, delicate world. The laughter of the innkeeper is a moment of shared humanity, breaking through the formal or cultural barriers that may exist between them. This lightheartedness offers a counterpoint to the more reflective and philosophical tones of the poem, reminding the reader that even in contemplation, life’s simple pleasures and human interactions carry weight.

The speaker continues by describing his experience of visiting temples: "I’m sitting here, having seen six temples this morning, wondering if I lack religion." This musing brings the poem into the realm of introspection, as the speaker questions his spiritual life in light of the deeply religious and ritualistic environment of Kyoto. The sheer number of temples he visits suggests a saturation of religious experience, yet he remains uncertain about his own relationship to faith. The question of lacking religion isn’t presented with despair, but more as a casual, almost detached curiosity—perhaps a reflection on how one’s personal spirituality can feel small in the face of grand, sacred spaces.

The poem takes a turn towards the external world again with the appearance of an old man "now passes, shaved head, grey clothes," and a woman who "stops to look in her purse." These are everyday moments, ordinary acts that become significant through the speaker’s observation. The man’s shaved head and grey clothes hint at a Buddhist monk or perhaps just an older, ascetic figure, reinforcing the theme of spirituality that lingers in the background of the poem. The woman’s simple act of looking in her purse is a moment of pause, a break in the flow of movement, much like the speaker’s own reflections. These small acts mirror the speaker’s larger quest for understanding and meaning in the present moment.

The time marker "It’s just about four o’clock" adds a sense of specificity and normalcy, grounding the poem in the temporal world. This is followed by a brief weather report: "it’s grey, shifting clouds, no rain as yet." The attention to the shifting sky reflects the transient, ever-changing nature of time and existence. There’s an implicit awareness that everything is in motion, yet, for now, things remain calm—no rain, just grey clouds on the horizon.

As the poem moves toward its conclusion, the speaker expresses contentment: "I like it, and I’m happy to sleep on the floor, which I do, like a log." This declaration of comfort in simple living contrasts with the earlier, more clumsy moments, suggesting that the speaker has found peace in this foreign place. Sleeping on the floor, a practice common in Japanese tradition, becomes a symbol of acceptance and humility. The comparison to a log suggests a deep, undisturbed rest, a connection to the earth and to the natural flow of life.

In the final lines, Creeley returns to the theme of water, a recurring motif in the poem: "It’s truly time to study the water, passing, each specific ripple, flicker of light." The speaker’s focus narrows to the minute details of water—its ripples and flickers of light—emphasizing the importance of close observation and mindfulness. This moment of reflection suggests a deepening awareness of the transient nature of all things. The water, constantly moving, is a metaphor for time and thought, for the flow of life that cannot be stopped or fully grasped.

The closing line—"take everything I know and put it out there, where it’s got to go"—is a powerful declaration of release. The speaker recognizes that all of his knowledge, his experiences, and perhaps even his questions, must be let go. There is a sense of surrender to the passage of time and the inevitability of change. The poem ends with a sense of resolution, as the speaker accepts the need to release his thoughts and allow them to merge with the ever-moving current of life.

In "For Benny and Sabina," Creeley masterfully weaves together the small, delicate moments of life in Kyoto with larger philosophical questions about time, existence, and spirituality. Through his keen observations and reflective tone, the poem becomes a meditation on the beauty of the present moment and the importance of letting go, of allowing life to move forward, like water flowing past, with each ripple and flicker of light marking the passage of time.

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