We’ve been away from Raymond Carver’s poetry for too long. So, here goes.


Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.

Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.

Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgivable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.

Published in: on January 25, 2010 at 3:02 pm  Comments (2)  

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  1. Oh, yes, Raymond Carver. I have recently re-read most of his stories and digging into literary minimalism. Less IS better (except in your blog-posts :))

    Of course you know this prose-poem of his:

    Raymond Carver

    No other word will do. For that’s what it was.
    Gravy, these past ten years.
    Alive, sober, working, loving, and
    being loved by a good woman. Eleven years
    ago he was told he had six months to live
    at the rate he was going. And he was going
    nowhere but down. So he changed his ways
    somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest?
    After that it was all gravy, every minute
    of it, up to and including when he was told about,
    well, some things that were breaking down and
    building up inside his head. “Don’t weep for me,”
    he said to his friends. “I’m a lucky man.
    I’ve had ten years longer than I or anyone
    expected. Pure Gravy. And don’t forget it.”

    • Orla,

      That poem is one of my favorites too. I almost started reading Carver’s stories again this past Fall, but didn’t get to it. I bought the latest Maile Meloy story collection yesterday. She reminds me of Carver.

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