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Niagara on the Lake, Ontario, Canada
My virtue is that I say what I think, my vice that what I think doesn't amount to much.

Friday, May 15, 2015

Franz Wright, Pulitzer Prize-winning poet, dead at age 62

In announcing Mr. Wright’s death, Knopf posted his poem “Crumpled-Up Note Blowing Away”:

Were no one

here to witness it,

could the sun be

said to shine? Clearly,

you pedantic fool.

But I’ve said all that

I had to say.

In writing.

I signed my name.

It’s death’s move.

It can have mine, too.

It’s a perfect June morning,

and I just turned eighteen;

I can’t even believe

what I feel like today.

Here am I, Lord,

sitting on a suitcase,

waiting for my train.

The sun is shining.

I’m never coming back.

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