Biography of Keith Taylor
Born in British Columbia, Taylor spent his childhood in Alberta and Indiana. After earning an M.A. in English from Central Michigan University, he worked a variety of odd jobs: the co-host of a radio talk show, a house painter, a freight handler, a teacher, a freelance writer. He also worked at Shaman Drum, a leading independent bookstore, for twenty years. He currently lives in Ann Arbor with his wife and daughter and is a professor in the creative writing program at University of Michigan.
His poems have appeared in many journals, including The Ann Arbor Observer, The Chicago Tribune, The Detroit Free Press, The Los Angeles Times, Michigan Quarterly Review, The Notre Dame Review, ' Poetry Ireland Review, and The Sunday Telegraph Magazine (London). Taylor is the recipient of, among other awards, a fellowship in poetry from the National Endowment for the Arts.
Keith Taylor Poems
Cashier's Dream; The Hunt
At that moment, call it the float if you like, but the precise moment between your giving me the money and my giving you the merchandise,
Uncertain about the difference between his memory and the myth, the thing he'd been told and what he'd seen,
At The Living Creche
A camel in the church yard on State walked around the fence toward our car (This is true! It really did happen
The Gardener Remembers
The gardener sculpts the land to help us remember the names we’ve lost: wild ginger and false Solomon’s seal,
Statue Of The Blind Girl
She listens, not to the green world exploding around her, not to Vesuvius howling— the hour has come; of two working in the field one shall be taken; of two women grinding wheat
The Day After An Ice Storm
When it dawns crystalline, blue, the air sparkling with prisms reflected off oak and spruce, off every twig, branch, or limb,
Sea And Rain: Lake Michigan
There is a dance at water's edge, a movement between the lake, its sand and the horizon where lake becomes cloud.
Mortals... Gods... Eh...
Many people think that there is only one King, Who rules over all, everyone, everything. Well, I come here to tell you how That there are Gods that walk among us now!
The Gardener Remembers
The gardener sculpts the land
to help us remember the names
we’ve lost: wild ginger
and false Solomon’s seal,
skunk cabbage and early buttercup.
The plants have outlasted
our indifference, their green lives
passing unnoticed among dunes