Dragonfly's Poetry & Prolixity: Late Fragment by Raymond Carver

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Late Fragment by Raymond Carver

LATE FRAGMENT

By Raymond Carver

And did you get what

you wanted from this life, even so?

I did.

And what did you want?

To call myself beloved, to feel myself

beloved on the earth.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Those are two of my kitties, Catfish and Little Debbie, asleep like yin and yang.

Blessings, Love & Peace,

~*~Marion~*~

6 comments:

Karen said...: I love the poem. I think this is what we all want from life. Even so?

Have a blessed weekend, Marion.; October 2, 2009 at 7:14 AM
Renee said...: Marion, now you know I don't kow poetry, but this is one I know and have always loved. Isn't it beautiful.

I am laughing my head off at Ignatius starting up the political party of homosexual men. He is so funny, that I seriously read a line and am smirking from ear to ear. What wit.

Love Renee xoxo; October 2, 2009 at 9:05 AM
Kelly said...: I like this poem and I love the pic of your kitties! Aren't sleeping pets sweet!?

Did the storms last night come as far down as you?; October 2, 2009 at 10:19 AM
Wine and Words said...: Trying to stay drunk on writing along with Raymond. Thanks for the delicious shot. Have a great weekend!; October 2, 2009 at 12:04 PM
Margaret Pangert said...: Hi Marion~ I wonder if that's what made Carver's life run all right--he had self love. It's such a wonderful gift to be able to say that. xxox; October 2, 2009 at 9:01 PM
Woman in a Window said...: Marion, isn't it a strange thing that we are born to this earth and yet we all have this universal desire? We are born a fiddlehead, waiting for that other perfect fit. Your cats have certainly found theirs.
much love
erin; October 5, 2009 at 5:59 AM

I Love Lorrie Moore!!

“You’re not a poetess, I hope,” said the English geologist next to her. “We had a poetess here last month, and things got a bit dodgy here for the rest of us.”

“Really.” After the soup, there was risotto with squid ink.

“Yes. She kept referring to insects as ‘God’s typos’ and then she kept us all after dinner one evening so she could read from her poems, which seemed to consist primarily of the repeating line ‘the hairy kiwi of his balls.’”

From: “Birds of America” by Lorrie Moore, page 266, ‘Terrific Mother’

Miranda July's Best Book:

"Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise." From: "No One Belongs Here More Than You Stories by Miranda July", Page 11

A Dreamy, Drug of a Book

"The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off. That means beignets and crayfish bisque and jambalaya, it means shrimp remoulade, pecan pie and red beans with rice, it means elegant pompano au papillote, funky file z'herbes, and raw oysters by the dozen, it means grillades for breakfast, a po' boy with chowchow at bedtime, and tubs of gumbo in between. It is not unusual for a visitor to the city to gain fifteen pounds in a week---yet the alternative is a whole lot worse. If you don't eat night and day, if you don't constantly funnel the indigenous flavors into your bloodstream, then the mystery beast will go right on humping you, and you will feel its sordid presence rubbing against you long after you have left town." ~Tom Robbins, "Jitterbug Perfume", page 240