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21 " And then the streetlights came on as alwaysand we looked into one another's eyes—ancient caves with still poolsand those little transparent fishwho have never seen even one ray of light.And the calm that returned to uswas not even our own.(from: 'Never Again the Same') "
― James Tate , Shroud of the Gnome
22 " I was a dog in my former life, a very gooddog, and, thus, I was promoted to a human being.I liked being a dog. I worked for a poor farmerguarding and herding his sheep. Wolves and coyotestried to get past me almost every night, and notonce did I lose a sheep. the farmer rewarded mewith good food, food from his table. He may havebeen poor, but he ate well. and his childrenplayed with me, when they weren’t in school orworking in the field. I had all the love any dogcould hope for. When I got old, they got a newdog, and I trained him in the tricks of the trade.He quickly learned, and the farmer brought me intothe house to live with them. I brought the farmerhis slippers in the morning, as he was gettingold, too. I was dying slowly, a little bit at atime. The farmer knew this and would bring thenew dog in to visit me from time to time. Thenew dog would entertain me with his flips andflops and nuzzles. And then one morning I justdidn’t get up. They gave me a fine burial downby the stream under a shade tree. That was theend of my being a dog. Sometimes I miss it soI sit by the window and cry. I live in a high-risethat looks out at a bunch of other high-rises.At my job I work in a cubicle and barely speakto anyone all day. This is my reward for beinga good dog. The human wolves don’t even see me.They fear me not. "
― James Tate
23 " Poetry is everywhere; it just needs editing. "
― James Tate , The Best American Poetry 1997 (Best American Poetry)
24 " Poetry is everywhere; it just needs editing." — "
25 " Poem (I Can’t Speak for the Wind)I don’t know about the cold.I am sad without hands.I can’t speak for the windWhich chips away at me.When pulling a potato, I see only the blue haze.When riding an escalator, I expect something orthopedic to happen.Sinking in quicksand, I’m a wild appaloosa.I fly into a rage at the sight of a double-decker bus,I want to eat my way through the Congo,I’m a double agent who tortures himself and still will not speak.I don’t know about the cold,But I know what I like I like tropical madness,I like to shake the coconutsAnd fingerprint the pythons,-fevers which make the children dance.I am sad without hands,I’m very sad without sleeves or pockets.Winter is coming to this city,I can’t speak for the wind which chips away at me. "
― James Tate , Viper Jazz
26 " Trained slugs race across his jelloin eight-cylinder sombreros "
27 " All night a door floated down the river.It tried to remember little incidents of pleasurefrom its former life, like the time the loversleaned against it kissing for hours and whispering those famous words.Later, there were harsh words and a shoewas thrown and a door was slammed. From "The Wrong Way Home "
― James Tate , Worshipful Company of Fletchers
28 " I had a theory for a while,but I had to let it go.It was wasting away in captivity.It sat there in the cage of my brainand wouldn't eat.When I had first trapped itit was beautiful and wile and amused everyone."Too much attention," the vet said. It wasn't cut out for that kind of life."Smart "
