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Robin Blaser (1925-2009)

Robin Blaser, the poet of The Holy Forest, has died. The Globe and Mail has an appreciation here, and The Quill and Quire has theirs here.
Further tributes from:
Please post any new information in the comments, and I will follow up with anything further as it comes in.
2009-05-08
Posted in Group Blog, Poetry News on Friday, May 8th, 2009 by Travis Nichols.


Comments (4)
the sorrow is sharp
one plays on innocence
the harp silences
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the cold has come, the moths have gone,
white, grey, cinnamon and one rested
in the sun, wine purple wings, yellow
edged, tacked with the wind’s changes,
careened, then, taking flight, hid
in the fig tree
the circles the moon, the stars, the
plants and below, under the earth, the sun
between the earth and the moon, a tone
beyond that, the lyre
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I will never forget hearing him read Shelley at St Marks Poetry Project. He glowed with it.
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To paraphrase Spicer, “his love will let him go on.” Robin’s migrated this spring but he’s left his song for us. The world will be colder in the absence of his presence, but the intelligence and the beauty of his song remains.
Judith Roche
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