Funeral Blues

me and pop at wedding

Poppy, 1928-2014.

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

— W.H. Auden


“Don’t wait for anybody to ask you. They are never going to ask you. They are never, ever going to ask you. You have to make the art that you want to make without being asked. Find a way to do it. Don’t wait.”

— Laurie Anderson




Posted in <3

Review of “Emberton” by Peter Norman in National Post


Peter Norman’s debut novel, Emberton, is named after a crumbling building that houses the offices of the titular dictionary company.

Although Lance Blunt is illiterate, he’s offered a job as a lexicographer. Not long after starting work, Lance is befriended by the company’s eccentric owner, Mr. Emberton, who lives upstairs in the penthouse.

You can read the rest here: