I had a dream that I was at a banquet celebrating Robert Creeley and Denise Levertov. Creeley himself was in attendance. I had to give a speech, and at the end of this speech I was about to recite "I Know a Man," but Creeley interrupted me. So I improvised the following poem:

This is my im-
aginary Cree-
ley poem.

I hope you like it
sport.
You're up next.

Wild applause. The next speaker got up and began to talk about Levertov. She implied that the real reason we were here was to celebrate her work, not Creeley's. I've rarely been able to remember poems I've composed in dreams, so this is a breakthrough for me. I was particularly proud of the word "sport" for some reason.