For every day is a good day for Tate, from The Eternal Ones of the Dream.
from Quabbin Reservoir / by James Tate
I thought I heard a lute being played, high up,
in the birch trees, or a faun speaking French
with a Brooklyn accent. A snowy owl watched me
with half-closed eyes.
poetry, publishing, and mentoring
A periodic, open discussion of particular poems
a resource for moving poetry
from lined paper, to Royal, to Smith Corona, to floppy disk, to 1TB hard drive...it's all a result of the passing wind.
Poet & Essayist
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Reading Around The World
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Original poetry, commentary, and fiction. All copyrights reserved.
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