Lynch, Thomas 2002

Wednesday, March 3, 2002

It came to him that he could nearly count
How many Octobers he had left to him
In increments of ten or, say, eleven
Thus: sixty-three, seventy-four, eighty-five. 

Thomas Lynch, “Refusing at Fifty-two to Write Sonnets”

Broadside of “Refusing at Fifty-two to Write Sonnets” by Thomas Lynch

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The body of the boy who took his flight
off the cliff at Kilcloher into the sea
was hauled up by curragh-men, out at first light
fishing mackerel in the estuary.

Thomas Lynch, “He Posits Certain Mysteries”

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Watch a reading and interview with Thomas Lynch at the Chicago Humanities Festival:

Thomas Lynch: Poet & Undertaker – See more Chicago Humanities Festival events. “There is nothing like the sight of a dead human body to assist the living in separating the good days from the bad ones. Of this truth I have some experience,” writes Thomas Lynch in Bodies in Motion and at Rest: On Metaphor and Mortality.

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