Jim Harrison, novelist, poet

“… Many of us can see our ends coming as in a dream. Under a tree in a meadow, or more likely, a car in the night, balling in the bathtub when drunk, sitting in a chair at the window and the world slowly disappears to music you’ve never heard before…”

–part of a poem from Dead Man’s Float

––Harrison died on March 26, 2016, in Patagonia, Ariz, while sitting in a chair at his desk working on a poem next to a window near a running stream.