with a conscience, acutely attuned to existential absurdity yet immune to zero-sum nihilism, using elaborate artifice as a delicate instrument to probe everything that makes us all too human.
James Tate began his career as something of a child prodigy, winning the Yale Younger Poets prize at the ripe old age of 23, and ever since has reveled in a life of literary truancy.
from The Boston Globe: Dream time
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