In my time of darkness I go back to the old haunts,
to Raymond Carver:

I closed the book
and he looked back, and in the morning
spoke to me on the toilet, in my bathrobe
with my phone:

He said, What kind of man are you,
trading your time for coins?

(We are all in the business
of trading our time — )

And foolish, first day
it feels like spring
I walked to the lake in the morning dark
to the sound of waterfowl landing, making V’s —
to the footsteps on the gravel coming down
to the dock, where I held
in the dark like the waterfowl,
unseen —

and stood there
waiting
until I got what I came for,
then headed home

they said the sunset was 4:59 today,
the same time the app
said my pizza would come

Categories: poetry, writing

Tags: humor, imagistic, inspiration, nature imagery, pacific northwest, poem, poetry, Raymond Carver, William Pearse writer, writers block