Not actually from Poetry Found. I just happened to see it quoted somewhere and it's possibly my favorite Raymond Carver poem (as opposed to this one about how the dog being run over inspired him to write a great poem about how sad his daughter was about the dog. A lot of dogs seem to die in Chandler's stuff.)
“Rain”
by Raymond Chandler
Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.
Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.
Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgivable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.
In which I engage in shallow discussions about books, movies, science, history and whatever else I'm thinking at that moment. And have beers with Captain Howdy.
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