James Tate

The poet James Tate.


GOODTIME JESUS

Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He has been dream- 

ing so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it?

A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around him, eyes rolled 

back, skin falling off. But he wasn’t afraid of that. It was a beau- 

tiful day. How ‘bout some coee? Don’t mind if I do. Take a little 

ride on my donkey. I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.

John Ashbery

  The New Spirit (excerpt) I thought that if I could put it all down, that would be one way. And next the thought came to me that to leave a...