In Memory of Paul Stevens

I learned today that Paul Stevens, poet, editor, and damn fine human being, has died. I don’t know the details, although I know his health has not been good for a while, and that he was surrounded by his family. But I know I speak for many when I say that his death is a huge loss. The online journals he created (Shit Creek Review, The Chimaera, The Flea–long may they remain archived online) are beautifully designed and brimming with excellent work, and I was proud to appear in all three of them. We also published Paul in The Raintown Review. The hauntingly exquisite poem is below. Goodbye Paul, and thank you for being you.

Off the Map by Paul Christian Stevens
…a kind of conversation that needs no tongue…
–David Malouf, An Imaginary Life

Shuffling in bearskin trousers, his burning
Mind fervid,
Each breath spinning new lyrics–
Shaggy-haired Ovid.

Love, once a witty game, is now dragging him after
A girl who slips over
The limes of his mapped world, the final
Wide river.

He follows her to the far bank, both metamorphosing
Into the wild
Singing, Beautiful, careless, sky-eyed,
Sun-haired child.

Their tracks become measureless motifs of
Unpatterned Never,
Wind rising, night massing, late sunlight
Riffing the river.

Posted in memory of Paul Stevens.

One Comment

  1. Tim Murphy

    Anna, so sorry to hear this. Paul was arguably the finest editor I ever worked with, and I mourn his passing. Thank you for the lovely poem.

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