JAMES TATE IN MEMORY

Last year you passed away
we remembering your last reading
in texts of experimentation
with a willing eccentricity
against any asphyxiated heresy
of old fashioned textbook poetry
James grooming new language
with the rough edged phrases
in my sequins of memory
naming my elegy about you,
for there is in my recollection
discloses you at seventy
with a lively spirit
in the Amherst classroom
as we discussed Emily Dickinson
when putting roses on her grave.