A fellow poet suggested I curate a cento. Because we were on video, speaking from different continents with different accents, I thought she said, “curate a centaur." This is how my poem came about. I imagined the speaker was a centaur’s curator and began describing what the job entailed. In the fourth stanza, the centaur adopted a human persona that took over the poem.
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"Henry Taylor, Prize-Winning Poet, Dies at 82"
“A formalist poet with a love of sonnets, limericks, and other traditional forms, Mr. Taylor was roundly praised for his techincal dexterity and attention to rhyme and meter. Former U.S. poet laureate Ted Kooser, a fellow Pulitzer winner, once said that Mr. Taylor had 'never published a poem that was not perfectly imagined, perfectly shaped, perfectly paced, and perfectly moving and true.'”
viaTHE WASHINGTON POST |
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What Sparks Poetry:
Mary-Alice Daniel on Object Lessons
"Science is one language articulating the esoteric fabric of spacetime. Verse is another valence. Astrophysics and poetry pair prettily. Both concern themselves with the behavior and spectacle of celestial bodies; with the margins of massive matters alongside the infinitesimal; the inconceivable infinite. Dreamers in the two disciplines speculate alternate & extra dimensions. We enlist anomaly. We trouble in stasis. We peer into—across—the reality tunnel: the entangled expanse between what you see and I perceive." |
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