It’s like he saw it coming. “The Numbers,” the first poem in the vast first volume of the Poems of J.H. Prynne, opens: The whole thing it is, the difficult matter: to shrink the confines down. Prynne died in April, aged 89.
The maverick writer and scholar was a pioneer in 60s avant garde circles, and emerged as a cult figure despite an aversion to publicity, and poetry that was hard to parse