![]() And it’s what Carver had going for him: an interesting life, a life out of the ordinary, something worth reporting on. And to tell me if this snow keeps on / she intends to kill herself.” Now there’s an interesting opening-for a poem, or a piece of prose, or whatever. ![]() Take, for instance, the little poem “Mother” in the collection Ultramarine, which begins, “My mother calls to wish me a Merry Christmas. His best poems, and there are a number of pretty good ones, represent a triumph of content over technique, of feeling over method. Still, though, Carver’s poetry is not without interest. Some have found this off-putting.įred Chappell, writing in the Kenyon Review, once said of a collection of Carver’s verse, “It is difficult to think of these productions as poems they stand in relation to poetry rather as iron ore does to a Giacometti sculpture.” That’s mean, but it’s easy enough to see where Chappell is coming from. A typical Carver poem consists of sentences and phrases arranged on the page to resemble poetry, but don’t bother trying to scan them. He penned poems, it seems, when his short-story muscles needed a rest.Īnd, like Walt Whitman, he did it almost entirely in free verse. Which shouldn’t surprise us since prose is what his reputation mainly rests on. Raymond Carver wrote a prosy kind of poem.
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