Jim Harrison

In mourning: Jim Harrison, 78 (Chronicler of Upper Lower and UP Michigan) poet, short story and novella writer, fly-fisher, gourmet, lover of liquor, died Holy Saturday at his winter home in Patagonia, Arizona, near the Mexico border.

Here’s a poem Jim just as well could have written Good Friday. It strikes me as a good way for the “Old Dog” to say goodbye.


The moon comes up.
The moon goes down.
This is to inform you
that I didn’t die young.
Age swept past me
but I caught up.
Spring has begun here and each day
brings new birds up from Mexico.
Yesterday I got a call from the outside
world but I said no in thunder.
I was a dog on a short chain
and now there’s no chain.


1 thought on “Jim Harrison

  1. Most excellent choice, my poet friend, and I liked all I read preceding it on my way to write a poem myself, half of which I forgot…Got April Fooled, I guess, my brain glitches more and more with a plate (titanium, not china, in head. Harrison revered in UP, not just “liked”. I wonder if I met him years back in Interlochen…perhaps, since he was known to speak there. Y’all drive safe now, y’hear? We were just in the middle of a snow globe storm which melted in an hour…no April fooling’! Vortex Vicki

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