This Morning, Raymond Carver Poem

Carver's poem has that strange quality of someone speaking almost casually about something that is actually profound. The narrator isn't announcing a revelation. He notices that, for two minutes, he disappeared. And that is where the poem touches something very close to Krishnamurti: for a moment there was seeing without the machinery of the self interfering. But Carver doesn't philosophise about it. He simply tells us that when he turned back, he didn't know where he was. Then the birds rose from the trees and showed him the way.