Today's poem is "Every Place I've Ever Lived Is Gone:"
from 88 Maps

Lost Horse Press

Rob Carney earned a BA in English from Pacific Lutheran University and an MFA in Creative Writing from Eastern Washington University, completing his PhD at the University of Louisiana-Lafayette. He is a two-time winner of the Utah Book Award for Poetry and the author of three previous books and three chapbooks of poems, including Story Problems and Weather Report from Somondoco Press. His work has appeared in Cave Wall, Mid-American Review, Poetry Northwest, Quarterly West, Redactions, River Styx, Sugar House Review, other journals, as well as Flash Fiction Forward (Norton 2006). In 2014 he received the Robinson Jeffers Tor House Prize for Poetry. He is a Professor of English at Utah Valley University.

Other poems by Rob Carney in Verse Daily:
June 11, 2011:   "How Shedding Feathers Taught The Children to Make a Kite..." "A boy and a girl, then a dozen more..."
January 14, 2003:  "More Than Ashes to Ashes, Not Just Dust to Dust" " In the Old Songs about Washington, if a fisherman drowned..."

Books by Rob Carney:

Other poems on the web by Rob Carney:
Seven pages of poems
Two poems
Three poems
Four poems

About 88 Maps:

"Rob Carney's 88 Maps lays a blueprint for navigating an American West replete with 'invisible Stetsons' and immigration round-ups, Mountain Dew ad men and wolf hunts. In an age that would have us plug our inner worlds with power cords and impulse-buys, 88 Maps opens startling and bighearted pathways. Carney alerts us to languid truths, which angle against a national frame demanding that we live—or perhaps more accurately, livestream—in the extreme now. In a spirit of resistant joy, Rob Carney points us toward the riches of the internal landscape as well as the slow moving glories of day-to-day life. For this, we are deepened beyond measure."
—Diane Raptosh

"Rob Carney's poems are strange machines, well-engineered but unfamiliar devices that bear both the inventor's marks and the scars of use and misuse. They are suitable for combat and pillow. I admire the ways his poems are both tightly wound and unhinged, like toys that can't be put back into the box and have evolved into companionable friends. The critical intelligence is keen in these poems, and so is the vaudevillian ear."
—Ed Skoog

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