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.

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Keith Taylor Poems

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!... more »

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.... more »

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,... more »

Keith Taylor Quotes

Comments about Keith Taylor

D. Blakely 26 Feb 2019 12:01
I found Taylor's THE BIRD-WHILE (title from Emerson) at my favorite bookstore in Ann Arbor (Literatti) and am now a late-finding, thankful for the find, fan. Taylor has taught me how to begin to appreciate the nano-second moments of perception in seeing, especially when applied to moments in nature. I wish CLIMATE-CHANGE DENIERS would read his work! ! ! Thank you, Mr. Taylor.
Keith Taylor 10 Apr 2018 11:02
The first poem is not by the same Keith Taylor as the others. I have no idea who he is.
Larry Galligan 21 Mar 2016 06:30
Dear Keith Taylor I wanted to thank you for sharing your time and insights with the Chelsea Writers last Saturday. You were very welcoming of strangers which we all were really, also kindred with idiosyncrasies aside. I do remember vividly the occasion when a kind Samaritan women in the city lost her life on interstate twenty three. It bears repeating perhaps not how many times we ourselves pass the location where she bent down to save and nurture back to life but in ever unfolding holiest of scriptures and quaint tapestries, there she is listed forever star-bright in eternal night. I know we are bodily crushed and spiritually forsaken she did not return to her loved ones that night, or to work on a new day. Pity this world you and I are enjoined to, a world which did not follow her as love would immediately in haste to find her living still among the breathing, and there take a stand. Enough of such casualties; our hearts are broken so we demand what can be done! The event like all events is entwined in Gods memory no longer to claim as our very own.