(b. 1941– )
U.S. poet
Robert Hass
…and because the light will enlarge your days, your dreams at night will be as strange as the jars of octopus you saw once in a fisherman’s boat under the summer moon…
“Late Spring,” in A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry (New York: Harcourt Bracy & Company), 27.
But I remember so much, the way her hands dismantled bread, the thing her father said that hurt her, what she dreamed.
“Meditation at Lagunitas,” in The Columbia Anthology of American Poetry (New York: Columbia University Press, 1995), 715.