I sat in the bar again yesterday reading Carver poems. I didn’t think of Vietnam or Iowa either. I did not fight back tears as I did the day before. What would people say–a grown man crying in a bar while reading Carver poems?

I’d read a Carver poem. Then I let it rattle about my brain before reading the next. I drifted and dreamed. When I do that I don’t go anywhere in particular. B used to say I went off to Lynnland. Yesterday, Lynnland was inhabited by Carver poems. The poems hit my stomach hard on that lonely and frigid afternoon.

That’s about all I can tell you. I was in Lynnland for awhile yesterday.

Published in: on February 11, 2008 at 11:57 am  Comments (3)  

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3 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Much easier to read when it’s not handwritten on a postcard!

    Lynnland sounds like such a magical place – like Disneyland or Kiddieland…

  2. V,

    I suppose Lynnland is like the magical place we all create for ourselves and retreat to at times.

    You got inside Lynnland the fastest of anyone I have ever met.

  3. I tend to cut in lines.

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