A Poet Reflects

Poems
They’ve come every day this month. Once I said I wrote them because I didn’t have time for anything else.  Meaning, of course, better things—things other than mere poems and verses.  Now I’m writing them because I want to. More than anything because this is February when normally not much of anything happens.  But this month the larches have blossomed, and the sun has come out every day. … For now, stay barefoot.  Go outside … and play.
—Raymond Carver, excerpt from “Poems” in A New Path to the Waterfall (Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989)
Painting: William Chickillo, Larches, n.d

Poems

They’ve come every day this month.
Once I said I wrote them because
I didn’t have time for anything
else.  Meaning, of course, better
things—things other than mere
poems and verses.  Now I’m writing
them because I want to.
More than anything because
this is February
when normally not much of anything
happens.  But this month
the larches have blossomed,
and the sun has come out
every day.
… For now, stay barefoot.  Go
outside … and play.

—Raymond Carver, excerpt from “Poems” in A New Path to the Waterfall (Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989)

Painting: William Chickillo, Larches, n.d

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