W. D. Snodgrass passed away this morning in the company of his family. He was 83.
On the fortunate (for me) occasions when I was privileged to work with him as an editor, he was the sweetest and most genial of men. His poem "For Hugues Cuenod--in His 100th Year," which first appeared in the February 2004 issue ofThe New Criterion, was selected by Paul Muldoon for The Best American Poetry 2005. (De, as he was known, appeared many times in the series.)
Another poem that De published in The New Criterion (June 2005), "Packing Up the Lute," ends:
And what’s left now I could still sing?
Go lie with lovenotes and snapshots. You
Were just too fine a vice to last.
Condemned to virtue, we thumb through
The evidence of our misspent past.
Much will be written and remembered about him in the coming days. He was an extraordinary poet, one of the greats.
Sad news. My deepest sympathy to his family and friends.
Posted by: Laura Orem | January 13, 2009 at 02:41 PM
There will never be another voice like De Snodgrass. There is a black hole in the universe the next centuries will have to struggle to fill.I loved the man and his work. His wife Kathy has made us all better than we were. She inherits all our love.
Posted by: Grace Cavalieri | January 13, 2009 at 03:32 PM
Oh, this is very sad. He was a fine poet and a kind man. Sympathies.
Posted by: Moira | January 13, 2009 at 04:19 PM
Very sad. Dee and his wife Kathy came to Pittsburgh to do a reading for us a few years ago. He not only gave a fantastic reading but the next day delivered a talk on Whitman's Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking, which so moved my sometimes very sceptical literature colleagues that they asked me to have him come back every year to talk about poetry. Sadly, we never did. His enthusiasm and sanity will be solely missed. My deepest sympathies to Kathy and the family.
Posted by: Jeff Oaks | January 14, 2009 at 01:55 PM