In memory of Frank Kermode (19192010)
At least the dead dont have to die.
Everyone you see is dead, but its the Hamptons, so get over it.
Edward, and next Dickand now Frankall dead. Boys, goodbye.
Frank, at ninety, said on the phone he didnt particularly want to die.
Dont try to tell Frank that his charming work wont die.
The dead dont give a shit
About their work once they die. Frank is the newcomer:
I look around the lawn and there is everyone.
Poirier and Said and Kermode are sipping white wine and it is summer.
The fancy world of dead is having fun.
Everyone is wearing summer light.
They cant tell wrong from right.