Stupid (Raymond Carver Poem)
It's what the kids nowadays call weed. And it drifts like clouds from his lips. He hopes no one comes ...
It's what the kids nowadays call weed. And it drifts like clouds from his lips. He hopes no one comes ...
Cool summer nights. Windows open. Lamps burning. Fruit in the bowl. And your head on my shoulder. These the happiest ...
I woke up with a spot of blood over my eye. A scratch halfway across my forehead. But I'm sleeping ...
And all at length are gathered in. --LOUISE BOGAN By the time I came around to feeling pain and woke ...
These fish have no eyes these silver fish that come to me in dreams, scattering their roe and milt in ...
A few minutes ago, I stepped onto the deck of the house. From there I could see and hear the ...
This morning was something. A little snow lay on the ground. The sun floated in a clear blue sky. The ...
He said it doesn't look good he said it looks bad in fact real bad he said I counted thirty-two ...
As he writes, without looking at the sea, he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble. The tide ...
On the Columbia River near Vantage, Washington, we fished for whitefish in the winter months; my dad, Swede- Mr. Lindgren-and ...
So early it's still almost dark out. I'm near the window with coffee, and the usual early morning stuff that ...
It's August and I have not Read a book in six months except something called The Retreat from Moscow by ...
Fear of seeing a police car pull into the drive. Fear of falling asleep at night. Fear of not falling ...
And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To ...
October. Here in this dank, unfamiliar kitchen I study my father's embarrassed young man's face. Sheepish grin, he holds in ...
it gets run over by a van. you find it at the side of the road and bury it. you ...
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