The next poet I’d like to feature is Raymond Carver. I discovered Mr. Carver’s poetry on yet another birthday trip. It was 2005, and I’d just moved to Washington and I didn’t know anyone. I was on an expedition of the soul.
For me, it was a time of change and transformation. I decided to spend my birthday in Seattle since I had no friends or family to celebrate with. I got a very nice hotel room downtown and spent a weekend exploring the area. I ate many wonderful meals. I walked the streets. I explored the market. I watched people. I was alone and I was comfortable being alone. Everything was brand new and shiny.
I came across a book store in my wanderings and stepped inside to see what it held. I bought several books, Ultra-marine by Raymond Carver, Slowness by Milan Kundera and A Room with a View by E.M. Forster. All three books became instant favorites.
Raymond Carver’s poetry is raw, full of yearning and sensibility. Because of his writing style and my outlook on life during the time that I discovered his poetry, when I read it now I can feel that same spirit of metamorphosis and growth. I’m in a new place of transition these days from maiden to mother. But I can still really appreciate Carver’s work.
Company
This morning I woke up to rain
on the glass. And understood
That for a long time now
I’ve chosen the corrupt when
I had a choice. Or else,
simply, the merely easy.
Over the virtuous. Or the difficult.
This way of thinking happens
when I’ve been alone for days.
Like now. Hour spent
in my own dumb company.
Hours and hours
Much like a little room.
With just a strip of carpet to walk on.
One final note, I was just reading the Wikipedia article about Raymond Carver and I discovered he passed away from lung cancer in 1988 and is actually buried in Port Angeles, Wa, where I found my book of Mary Oliver poems. Just a bit of random synchronicity.
That was a serendipitous pleasure!