The news everyone was dreading:

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/harr...here/#comments

I don't really know what to say, but I would like to celebrate his work and life, and will start a thread shortly on Mastery...

My deepest condolences to all of Craig's friends and family.

What a profound and affirming post from his partner.

So young for such a promising poet to go.


"In any man who dies there dies with him, his first snow and kiss and fight. Not people die but worlds die in them."

– Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Thanks, Mark. His blog, Volcano Pilgrim:

http://volcanopilgrim.wordpress.com/about/

As a memorial, the Valparaiso Poetry Review blog has posted a video of Craig Arnold reading his work.

The worst possible news, and I am so sad to hear it. I'm glad you started a Mastery thread, Alicia, and I plan to spend time there this week. Condolences to all his friends and family. A terrible loss.

SONNET 18

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

Very sad news. If you don't know it already, and you want to know who we have lost, look up his masterpiece poem "Hot" from his first book. I am sure it is floating around the net somewhere. While you're at it, look for his perfect little sonnet about not going to high school reunions.

Thanks for keeping us updated Alicia.

David R.

I just read somebody's poetic acknowledgement. Here's somebody else's:

The Fiddler of Dooney
By William Butler Yeats



The Fiddler of Dooney





WHEN I play on my fiddle in Dooney,

Folk dance like a wave of the sea;

My cousin is priest in Kilvarnet,

My brother in Moharabuiee.



I passed my brother and cousin:

They read in their books of prayer;

I read in my book of songs

I bought at the Sligo fair.



When we come at the end of time,

To Peter sitting in state,

He will smile on the three old spirits,

But call me first through the gate;



For the good are always the merry,

Save by an evil chance,

And the merry love the fiddle

And the merry love to dance:



And when the folk there spy me,

They will all come up to me,

With ‘Here is the fiddler of Dooney!’

And dance like a wave of the sea.