garrison keillor: after serving in the united states navy, galway kinnell was a field worker in the south during the civil rights struggle of the 1960s. he's been a macarthur fellow, the state poet of vermont, and a winner of the pulitzer prize and the national book award. "a poem expresses one's most private feelings," he says, "and these turn out to be the feelings of everyone else as well." for i can snore like a bullhorn or play loud music or sit up talking with any reasonably sober irishman, and fergus will only sink deeper into his dreamless sleep, which goes by all in one flash. but let there be that heavy breathing or a stifled come cry anywhere in the house and he will wrench himself awake and make for it on the run. as now, we lie together, after making love, quiet, touching along the length of our bodies, familiar touch of the long-married, and he appears in his baseball pajamas, it happens, the neck opening so small he has to screw them on, and flops down between us and hugs us and snuggles himself to sleep, his face gleaming with satisfaction at being this very child. in the