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Lyn Lifshin has passed away

Jay Dougherty

Mangling Member
Editor
@Trish Saunders just let me know that @Lyn Lifshin has died.

https://dougholder.blogspot.com/201...XkEpmPxZSkDCzKD4YNFZY4VwGtQnlmq507I-o6OwnU7Ys

Lyn sent me countless poems over the years for my various lit mag publications. I still have dozens upon dozens around here, waiting to be published.

She was quite a force.

I could tell by her most recent e-mails to me that her health was fragile. I didn't know her well enough to inquire beyond that suspicion.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyn_Lifshin

https://openartsforum.com/an-interview-with-lyn-lifshin/
 
@Trish Saunders just let me know that @Lyn Lifshin has died.

https://dougholder.blogspot.com/201...XkEpmPxZSkDCzKD4YNFZY4VwGtQnlmq507I-o6OwnU7Ys

Lyn sent me countless poems over the years for my various lit mag publications. I still have dozens upon dozens around here, waiting to be published.

She was quite a force.

I could tell by her most recent e-mails to me that her health was fragile. I didn't know her well enough to inquire beyond that suspicion.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyn_Lifshin

https://openartsforum.com/an-interview-with-lyn-lifshin/
I'm so sorry for this loss.
 
Jay Dougherty published some really cool poems of hers .... I think she was never comfortable posting, is that right?

This has nothing to do with her unique talent, but she was also drop-dead gorgeous, and a great dancer. Rest in peace, dear Poet. I really wish I had known you, Lyn.

Anyway:

ON HEARING OF KEN KESEY'S DEATH
I think of being picked up in
the van slithering thru magnolias. Kesey
with his flask of orange juice and
vodka, sliding to my side of the
leather and how when we
got to the campus where
we'd be for a week. How he just
came into my study near my bed,
assumed I'd want him
to stay and tho still dazed, a wild
late night before, half the country north,
dying to sleep I slid
into his skin.
I think, in the green rooms, how he
made me blush over 20
years later, his sweet twinkly grin.
I wore my velvet mini
skirt to let him know those legs
once wrapped around him
still could. Imagined that if I
had stayed the extra day after
the others had gone
and there weren't many readings,
at least I could have held him.
When he said he knew some secret about
me to the others my face went scarlet.
"Hey listen, I've got quite a story
about Lyn Lifshin." Then dark
raspberry that faded to a paler rose
when he told about a reception
at the president's house
when he said we took mushrooms,
said my hair was dripping
with dip, how luckily
we got out of the president's house
before we did anything
too wicked. His eyes still wildly
glittery blue, his story as hypnotic as
that April. "My father always said get as
much meat as you can because
you're dead a long time." He was drinking
rose instead of vodka. Under the
magnolias I felt like
champagne in a chilled long stemmed glass
 
Jay Dougherty published some really cool poems of hers .... I think she was never comfortable posting, is that right?

This has nothing to do with her unique talent, but she was also drop-dead gorgeous, and a great dancer. Rest in peace, dear Poet. I really wish I had known you, Lyn.

Anyway:

ON HEARING OF KEN KESEY'S DEATH
I think of being picked up in
the van slithering thru magnolias. Kesey
with his flask of orange juice and
vodka, sliding to my side of the
leather and how when we
got to the campus where
we'd be for a week. How he just
came into my study near my bed,
assumed I'd want him
to stay and tho still dazed, a wild
late night before, half the country north,
dying to sleep I slid
into his skin.
I think, in the green rooms, how he
made me blush over 20
years later, his sweet twinkly grin.
I wore my velvet mini
skirt to let him know those legs
once wrapped around him
still could. Imagined that if I
had stayed the extra day after
the others had gone
and there weren't many readings,
at least I could have held him.
When he said he knew some secret about
me to the others my face went scarlet.
"Hey listen, I've got quite a story
about Lyn Lifshin." Then dark
raspberry that faded to a paler rose
when he told about a reception
at the president's house
when he said we took mushrooms,
said my hair was dripping
with dip, how luckily
we got out of the president's house
before we did anything
too wicked. His eyes still wildly
glittery blue, his story as hypnotic as
that April. "My father always said get as
much meat as you can because
you're dead a long time." He was drinking
rose instead of vodka. Under the
magnolias I felt like
champagne in a chilled long stemmed glass
That's quite a poem.
 
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