Author Robert Creeley I cannot move backward or forward. I am caught in the time as measure. What we think of we think of— of no other reason we think than just to think— each for himself. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Reviews Post review No reviews yet. Log in or register to post comments