Raymond Carver

1. Sometimes it's the littlest things: the soft click of the spoon against my mug as I stir sugar in my coffee. C. kissing my cheek before leaving the house. Music filling up all twenty square meters of a room. Forgetting

The old house is still on my mind. Mostly what lingers is my reaction to a place where I didn't even live. I mean—I've visited countless times. I am thinking: each time I go, I probably leave a part of

A fraught mind, tonight. My feelings raw, too. Crying while smoking, thinking if I should go to bed, or keep on reading. And it's not what you think. This book --- I have given my heart away to characters again,

Monday would be awesome if Carol Channing is here, shouting, "RAAAASPBERRIES!" Simple Raymond Carver A break in the clouds. The blue outline of the mountains. Dark yellow of the fields. Black river. What am I doing here, lonely and filled with remorse? I go on casually eating from

Raymond Carver was a poet before he became popular for writing short stories. Wow. I've been reading his poems for a long time now but had no idea. Still Looking Out for Number One Raymond Carver Now that you’ve gone away for five

A. is bugging me to read Raymond Carver's fiction. He's good, he's good, he says, he's damn good. There's something about his name that sounds so familiar so I looked among my things --- I have a box full of