Spring

This’ll probably be my only post for the week. Gonna fly down to Panama City, Florida with my brother, pick up some stuff, and drive back through Louisiana, Texas, New Mexico and etc. I’m taking my computer for writing. And We Deserve The Gods We Ask For, Black Wings Has My Angel, Ghost Alphabet, Abbey’s Road, Where All Light Tends to Go, and the Field Guide to Tracking Animals in the Snow (they’re all short, shaddup).

Apparently, it’ll be spring break in Panama City, so I’ll be avoiding everything in the above picture. But it is spring. I don’t know when yours starts, but mine starts right now. I’m not teaching nor doing nothing except for LitFest and a reading or two until August. Nothing but finishing this novel.

So here’s a poem. I’ve undoubtedly shared it before, but it’s my spring poem (even though it’s set in August).

Drinking While Driving – Raymond Carver

It’s August and I have not

Read a book in six months

except something called The Retreat from Moscow

by Caulaincourt

Nevertheless, I am happy

Riding in a car with my brother

and drinking from a pint of Old Crow.

We do not have any place in mind to go,

we are just driving.

If I closed my eyes for a minute

I would be lost, yet

I could gladly lie down and sleep forever

beside this road

My brother nudges me.

Any minute now, something will happen.