DPF / Halpern

For children, from The Best American Poetry 1997, guest editor James Tate, series editor David Lehman.

from Her Body / by Daniel Halpern

the smallest finger poking the air, pointing toward the first heat
    of the single sun, pointing toward the friendly angels
        who sent her, letting them know contact’s made.

DPF / Tate

For James Tate who died last night. Audio and visual of the complete poem, a fragment of his life, below. Will miss your live voice out and about in this world.

Of Whom Am I Afraid / by James Tate (1943–2015)


DPF / Tate

Twenty-three years today since our father had his gun salute and American-flag folding. He was not a pilot, but he was a B-52 navigator.

from The Lost Pilot / by James Tate

and you, passing over again,
fast, perfect, and unwilling
to tell me that you are doing

DPF / Tate

Sort of like a GPS, only minutely different.

from Conjuring Roethke / by James Tate

I wish you were here.
The calendar is red,
a candle closes
the room.
If this is the life
we are all leaving
it’s half as bad.
Hello again mad turnip.
Let’s tango together
down to the clear
glad river.