James Tate




Amherst to Easthampton

I ain’t got no body
seizing my spirit.
My spiritual body has no body.
My body has no body,
and my spirit hath no spirit.
like the like the like the like the
nest of spiders beneath your arms,
the wind carries your shadow through her dark hills.

The darkness you cast off seeks me,
eats a hole through the chocolate forest that separates us,
empty spaces filled with a fine down.