Lynch, Thomas 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
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”
Watch a reading and interview with Thomas Lynch at the Chicago Humanities Festival:
Thomas Lynch: Poet & Undertaker
http://chicagohumanities.org – 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.
