Tracy K. Smith
A Poet of Deep Space and Quiet Earth
I listen to the quiet between stars.
I teach, I walk, I brew tea that always goes cold. My poems are maps of where grief and wonder blur. I believe in the ache of small things—the way light bends, the way dust settles. The past speaks if you learn its rhythm.
What I'm Into: my father's records, the hush after a film ends, Octavia Butler's futures, grading papers in the sun, dogs who know the sky
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