Suppose that in the graveyards of our grief,

for memory’s fade, then walked to the dusty shelfwhere next to those volumes of Eliotwith their brown-paper covers for thoseprecious wartime books alloweda ration of Canadian paper forfighting men to read in thosefew moments of leisure for the open heart andthe vision of a peacetime world, was‘Collected Shorter Poems 1930-1944 W.H.Auden’which fell open at page…

if you can’t tell anyone? …)Mariah Careywas never a member of theMickey Mouse Clubwhen young, er, younger…to whichsome will say, wow, don’t you know a lot.some will say, who’s Mariah Carey?or, who the chic black rock chick cares…or, smartipantsly, well you could guess couldn’t you.or just, cool –…and go on with what they’re doing.or, didn’t…

rouillent sur leurs branches,peut-etre les arbres croientses feuilles s’en retournent…but…here is real French from Michel Galiana’s voice:“Quand les oiseaux migrateursSe perchent sur leurs branchages,Ils croient peut-être, les arbres,Que leurs feuilles sont de retour. »and a further ‘more classical’ rendering:‘Lorsque les oiseaux migrateursSe posent sur eux, est-ce pourFaire croire aux arbres que leursFeuilles enfin sont de…

you can’t always remember whatwhat you always say is

Two hours before the usual time for attack.I wonder what they’ve got up their sleeve for today.A bit too quiet right now, I’d sayCareful how you breathe or talkthis chilly night, out there in the open trench;frozen breath will draw the sniper’s rifle sightThe sharp nose of some human terrierpassing over the familiar smells –cordite,…

hospital library, top shelfjust out of wheelchair reach,on the shelf labelled ‘Reference’)observed thatnonfiction writers tend to die, factually, at sixty-eight;novelists tie it all up at sixty-six;playwrights lower the curtain at sixty-three,and poets close their stanzas at sixty-two.Well, thanks..six years – looking on the bright side –for your favourite biographer to write you up;four years for…