Publisher’s Note

  Rendering poetry in a digital format presents several challenges, just as its many forms continue to challenge the conventions of print. In print, however, a poem takes place within the static confines of a page, hewing as close as possible to the poet’s intent, whether it’s Walt Whitman’s lines stretching to the margin like Route 66, or Robert Creeley’s lines descending the page like a string tie. The printed poem has a physical shape, one defined by the negative space that surrounds it—a space that is crafted by the broken lines of the poem. The line, as vital a formal and critical component of the form of a poem as metaphor, creates rhythm, timing, proportion, drama, meaning, tension, and so on.

  Reading poetry on a small device will not always deliver line breaks as the poet intended—with the pressure the horizontal line brings to a poem, rather than the completion of the grammatical unit. The line, intended as a formal and critical component of the form of the poem, has been corrupted by breaking it where it was not meant to break, interrupting a number of important elements of the poetic structure—rhythm, timing, proportion, drama, meaning, and so on. It’s a little like a tightrope walker running out of rope before reaching the other side.

  There are limits to what can be done with long lines on digital screens. At some point, a line must break. If it has to break more than once or twice, it is no longer a poetic line, with the integrity that lineation demands. On smaller devices with enlarged type, a line break may not appear where its author intended, interrupting the unit of the line and its importance in the poem’s structure.

  We attempt to accommodate long lines with a hanging indent—similar in fashion to the way Whitman’s lines were treated in books whose margins could not honor his discursive length. On your screen, a long line will break according to the space available, with the remainder of the line wrapping at an indent. This allows readers to retain control over the appearance of text on any device, while also indicating where the author intended the line to break.

  This may not be a perfect solution, as some readers initially may be confused. We have to accept, however, that we are creating poetry e-books in a world that is imperfect for them—and we understand that to some degree the line may be compromised. Despite this, we’ve attempted to protect the integrity of the line, thus allowing readers of poetry to travel fully stocked with the poetry that needs to be with them.

  —Dan Halpern, Publisher

  Frontispiece

  Acknowledgments

  “I sat at my desk and contemplated all that I had” is the last poem James Tate wrote, found in his typewriter as he left it. The poem was originally published in The Paris Review, in its fall 2015 issue; a limited edition broadside by Guy Pettit for Flying Object was printed on the occasion of James Tate’s Memorial Celebration, January, 2016, New School, New York.

  * * *

  Love and thanks for insights and essential help in so many ways to Brian Henry, Kate Lindroos, John Emil Vincent, Guy Pettit, Emily Pettit, James Haug, Earl Craig, and Matthew Zapruder.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Publisher’s Note

  Frontispiece

  Acknowledgments

  Eternity

  My New Pet

  Into the Night

  The Seahorse

  The Prairie Dog Town Under Attack

  Partners

  Debbie and the Lumberjack

  Double-Trouble

  Roscoe’s Farewell

  The Sky Is Falling Like Bunnies

  A Pea in a Pod

  Everything But Thomas

  O Josephina

  The Jackdaw’s Head

  Fishing in the Sea of Galilee

  The Cow and the Butterflies

  The Phone Call

  Elvis Has Left the House

  A Shift in the Attic

  The Execution

  The Shepherd

  The Liar

  Magic

  Out of Breath

  The Thief

  The Walk Home

  Second Childhood

  The Argonaut

  The Floorplan to Heaven

  The Shadows of the Trees on the Water

  Transparent Child

  The Dead Man’s Friend

  My Father and Me

  The Government Lake

  The Devil

  Too Late

  The Prayer

  The Visiting Doctor

  Married to the Wrong Man

  The Final Vacation

  A Dream Come True

  The Truth

  I sat at my desk and contemplated all that I had accomplished

  About the Author

  Also by James Tate

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Eternity

  Wild poultry inhabit these hills. Nobody knows how they got there

  or how they survive. They just do. Oh sure, a fox picks one of them off

  every now and then, but they can fly short distances and they can peck

  like crazy, too. Of course hunters hunt them as well. And they are not

  very hard to hit. But they multiply quite rapidly, so it all works out

  for them. Lose one, gain three, and so on. How they get through the winters

  is a mystery, but they do. Feathers started drifting down our chimney.

  They covered the kitchen after a while. They got in our food. Mildred

  complained of a stomachache, and after a few days she laid an egg. We were

  quite astonished and didn’t know what to do. She sat on it for a few days

  and then it hatched. It was a cute little chick, and it resembled Mildred

  in certain ways. She sat on it for a few weeks, and then we let it roam the

  house. A few weeks later the same thing happened. Mildred had

  a stomachache and a few days later she produced another chick. Soon

  the house was filled with chicks and Mildred was giddy with delight. I

  was bewildered and didn’t know what to do. I was feeding them all the

  time and cleaning up in between. Mildred had no time for me at all.

  She was chasing her chicks day and night. The house

  was filled with feathers no matter how much I swept. Then one night

  a fox got into the house. I don’t know how. It happened so fast. There

  were feathers everywhere. And in the shortest time there were no chicks left

  and the fox had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Mildred said,

  “What are we going to do? There’s nothing for us to do now.” “We’ll go

  on as we did before, when there were no chicks,” I said. “But I can’t

  imagine that. Without chicks there was nothing,” she said. “Without

  chicks we had one another. We loved each other, remember that,” I said.

  “It seems like so very long ago,” she said. “To me, it seems like it

  was only a few days,” I said. “To the chicks it was an eternity,” she said.

  My New Pet

  It was Thanksgiving and there was no one on the street. I was down-

  town and nothing was open. I was alone as no one had invited me to dinner.

  I had no family nearby. It’s not that I hadn’t friends. It’s just that

  they had forgotten me. I walked along the streets, not feeling sorry for

  myself, in fact rather happy just being alive, when I noticed that a

  dog was following me. He was just a mutt, but rather sweet looking. I

  stopped to let him catch up with me, and then I started petting him. He

  seemed to like it. We started walking together. When we got back to my car

  I picked him up and put him in. I drove out to my house, which was barely

  in the country, just three miles from town. I let him out and went inside.

  He wagged his tail and ran around the house exploring. I went into the

  kitchen and made us some hot dogs and baked beans. I put his in a bowl

  and called him to dinner. We ate at the dining room table, the dog right

  beside my chair. When we finished I grabbed the dishes and washed

  them. Then I went to take a nap. The dog jumped on the bed

  and lay down beside me. I decided to call him Snuggles. We slept for an

  hour, then got up. I found a ball and started tossing it to him. He

  brought it back every time. Then I had to do some work. I settled down

  at the table and opened my notebook. I concentrated on the problems I had

  for an hour or so when I noticed Snuggles wrestling with a three-foot black

  snake. I couldn’t imagine where it came from. Snuggles was tossing it in the

  air. Then, suddenly, the snake had wrapped itself around Snuggles’ neck

  and Snuggles was gagging. I jumped to my feet and grabbed the snake as hard as I

  could and yanked it free and smashed it to the floor. The snake crawled away

  into my bedroom, but Snuggles died right there in my hands. I laid

  him down on the couch and went looking for the snake in the bedroom, my

  new pet.

  Into the Night

  Sister Bodie walked out of the church. She looked around, grabbed her

  chest and fell down. Several parishioners gathered around her. One knelt down

  and picked up her head. That was Brother Paul. He said, “Sister Bodie, the

  Lord

loves you.” She said, “I know, Paul, I know.” And with that, her head

  went limp. The crowd sighed. Then she rose up off the ground above the

  crowd and hovered there for less than a minute. Then she burst into flames

  and came sifting down in ashes. Paul stood there shaking, speechless. Sister

  Ruth said, “It’s a miracle! What are we to do?” Brother Eric said, “Stay calm.

  Nobody do anything. We’ve got to figure this out.” Sister Eileen said, “I

  think she went direct to heaven, without bothering even to go to her grave.”

  Brother Paul muttered, “Yes, I think so.” “Let’s sweep up her ashes,” someone

  said. “No, don’t touch them,” said another. “Why?” someone asked. “They

  might be sacred,” Eric said. “Maybe she went to hell,” someone in the back

  of the crowd suggested. Those surrounding him started to beat on him. “Let

  him alone,” Brother Eric said. Paul started to cry. Sister Eileen offered

  him her hanky. “Let’s sing,” Sister Ruth suggested. They started to sing “What

  a Friend We Have in Jesus.” When they finished someone said, “That was the most

  maudlin version of that song I’ve ever heard.” They looked up and there

  stood Sister Bodie under the oak tree. They all gasped and Brother Paul

  nearly fainted. Sister Ruth said, “How did you get here?” Sister Bodie

  said, “Church is over, ain’t it?” Brother Eric said, “But you’re dead.”

  “Which of you fine gentlemen is going to walk me home?” Sister Bodie said.

  A stunned silence fell over the crowd. Finally, Sister Bodie said, “Well,

  how about you, ladies?” Again, silence. Brother Paul said from the back of

  the crowd, “I’ll walk you home, Sister Bodie.” “I knew you would,” said Sister

  Bodie. And so the two of them walked off into the night, though it was

  barely noon.

  The Seahorse

  My pet seahorse was acting sick this morning. He must have eaten

  something that didn’t agree with him. I thought of taking him to the

  doctor, but couldn’t find one who would see him. I looked up

  seahorses in a medical textbook and it suggested mouth-to-mouth

  respiration. So I reached in his aquarium and pulled him out. I placed my

  mouth on his and put my thumb and forefinger on his abdomen and started

  breathing on his mouth. I squeezed my thumb and forefinger back and forth

  as I breathed. After a while I started to fill with gas. I looked down and my body

  had grown enormous. I started to rise away from the seahorse towards the ceiling.

  I bounced around until I finally went out the window. I rose in the sky

  and floated around until I went to the sea. I started to lose altitude

  and crashed in the waves below. I started swimming towards shore. A

  boat came along and picked me up. The captain asked me what I was doing

  there so far from shore. I hated to tell him the truth, but I did. “A

  seahorse breathed in my mouth,” I said. “You’re lucky to be alive. That’s

  a terrible thing, there’s nothing worse,” he said. “But he was sick. I

  was trying to save him,” I said. “He was faking it. He was just trying

  to lure you in,” he said. “Really? I feel so stupid,” I said. “Well,

  at least you’re alive. A lot of great men died like that. Jesus, Napo-

  leon,” he said. “Jesus? Jesus died breathing the breath of a seahorse?”

  I said. “Sure. They had to cover that up, of course. That wouldn’t do for the

  savior of mankind,” he said. “I don’t feel so bad now. Thanks for telling

  me,” I said. “Oh, you’re in good company, all right,” he said.

  The Prairie Dog Town Under Attack

  Hereafter the little dogs of the prairie shall be known

  as Peter and Rob. Oh, and Martha and Anne. And then there were

  the little ones, Larry and Katie and Artie and Frank and Jamie

  and Barbara. I’m sure there were more. They moved around so

  fast it was hard to tell. Anyway, Bob was out scouting for food

  one day when he met a wolf. They started talking about food

  when the wolf suddenly looked at Bob and said, “You would make a good

  snack for me, you know that?” “Oh, no, I taste like poison. You

  wouldn’t want to eat me,” Bob said. “I’ve had one of you before. You

  don’t taste like poison. As I recall you were delicious,” said

  the wolf. “You must be thinking of my nephews. I know they taste

  good, but my tribe tastes terrible and will kill you,” Bob said.

  “Well, let me just try a leg, we’ll see then,” he said. Martha

  walked up and said, “What’s the matter?” “This wolf wants to eat my

  leg. I told him it would kill him,” Bob said. Peter and Frank

  walked up, and Peter said, “What’s the matter?” Bob said, “This

  wolf wants to eat me, but I told him we were poison.” “Oh, yes,

  it’s a proven fact. Scientists have said it’s so,” Peter said.

  “Just a bite won’t kill me. Come on, don’t be afraid,” the wolf

  said. Katie walked up and bit the wolf’s leg. “Ouch,” the wolf

  said, “that hurt.” “See what I mean, and you aren’t even poison,”

  Peter said. The wolf reached and grabbed Katie and gobbled her

  down. “We’ll see who’s poison,” he said. The prairie dogs all

  gathered together. “You’re going to die,” Peter shouted at the

  wolf. “We’ll see about that,” said the wolf. The prairie dogs

  all charged the wolf and started snapping at any part of him they

  could get at. The wolf jumped and twisted in the air and screeched.

  They wouldn’t stop. The wolf reached out and grabbed Bob and

  swallowed him whole. Peter backed off and cried for a few minutes.

  Bob was his best friend. But then he charged the wolf and jumped

  and bit him on the nose. The wolf cried and backed off. He coughed

  and hacked and eventually he threw up Katie and Bob. They were all

  right and ran to join Peter and the others. The wolf had had enough

  and turned and ran away. The prairie dogs were so happy they didn’t

  know what to do. “Man, it was dark and grizzly inside that wolf,”

  Bob said. “I rather liked it in there. It reminded me of before I was born,”

  Katie said. “I’m just glad to have you both back. It wasn’t the same

  without you,” Peter said.

  Partners

  I was at work when Jane came into my office and said,

  “You’ll have to do this over again. This draft is a mess. It’s

  full of errors and misquotes. The way you describe the poundage

  is all wrong and we’d never get it home that way. Really, Craig,

  I don’t know what you were thinking.” “I was just trying to get

  it here as fast as possible, that’s all, Jane,” I said. “Well, it

  certainly didn’t have to go through China. You must have lost your

  mind for a while,” she said. “China seemed like the shortest way,

  and, besides, there’s no tariff there,” I said. “The hell

  there isn’t. There’s a 1,000 percent markup there. Everybody knows

  that. You’re living in the dark ages. Get with it, Craig,” she said.

  “It works for me. I’m sorry if you feel that way. Maybe you had

  better get another partner,” I said. Jane went over to see the

  boss for a moment. When she came out, I went in. When I came

  out things were silent for a while. Then Jane blew up. “Can nobody

  see what’s in front of their face?” she screamed. I said, “Oh,

  shut up, Jane. You think you’re the only one who works here. You’re

  an outcast, really.” “Oh, go to hell, you big fat slob,” she said.

  “You’re a skinny weed of a woman,” I said. “Don’t get

  personal with me. Let’s keep this strictly to do with work. You

  have fucked up something terrible. You’re about to sink this whole

 

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