I drew a portrait of one of my very favorite poets, James Tate. His work means so much to me. In fact, here’s a little known fact about The Lovely Arc, a blog on which I’ve been posting consistently now for almost ten years: It got its name from a James Tate poem from Memoir of the Hawk.
THE LOVELY ARC OF A METEOR IN THE NIGHT SKY
At the party there were those sage souls
who swam along the bottom like those huge white
fish who live for hundreds of years but have no
fun. They are nearly blind and need the cold.
William was a stingray guarding his cave. Only
those prepared for mortal battle came close to
him. Closer to the surface the smaller fish
played, swimming in mixed patterns only a god
could decipher. They gossiped and fed and sparred
and consumed, and some no doubt even spawned.
It’s a life filled with agitation, thrills,
melodrama and twittery, but too soon it’s over.
And nothing’s revealed because it was never known.
Almost ten years of this blog, and still nothing’s revealed.