Birthday: April 11, 1934.
Birthplace: Summerside, Prince Edward Island.
Occupation: Poet and teacher.
Current home: Chicago.
Marital status: Single.
Children: Jessica, 35, and Tom, 15.
Car: A red 1992 Audi 100.
Working on: Teaching at the University of Chicago and working on a novel about my father.
The last good movie I saw: “The Dream Life of Angels.”
I stay home to watch: The playoffs of any sporting event.
The book I’ve been reading: Freud’s “A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis.”
Favorite dish: Risotto with white truffles.
Prized possession: A painting by William Bailey.
Personal hero: My father. He was big and strong and always seemed to be right.
Nobody knows: That I’ve been dead for 20 years.
If I could do it over: I’d be a tennis player.
I’d give anything to meet: Shakespeare, but what would I say to him?
My fantasy is: My writing is essentially my fantasies under control.
The one thing I can’t stand: People who blast their radios in their cars, making others the victims of their musical preferences.
If I could change one thing about myself: It would be my face. I’m tired of it, I’ve lived with it too long.
My most irrational act: I am wholly irrational. I’m just on the edge. Becoming a poet wasn’t irrational, just foolish, like using a megaphone that doesn’t have any power.
Most humbling experience: Getting up every morning. There’s so much to do and I know I’m not going to do any of it. I feel wholly incapable of accomplishing anything. Winning the (1999) Pulitzer Prize for poetry wasn’t humbling. It just meant that the judges liked my book. It’s a bit of a crap shoot.
The words that best describe me: Tall, visually acute and opinionated.
