It is with heavy heart that we report that our good friend and MOTW Poet Laureate, Ian McLeod, has passed away.

He was too young, and he will be dearly missed. Offer up a prayer for the repose of his soul and for his family to have God’s comfort.

As we honor our fallen brother, we remember that we do not grieve as do the pagans. We have a hope in eternal life with our Lord. So we end this with a note from Ian himself, from his Bilge Pump of a Turgid Mind.

To Be Added To My Will

“Bury the hand

that takes a life

away

from the body–

especially suicides”

said our

Roman forebears

(not verbatim.)

When I am out of time,

I wish to be buried

as a Parsee,

scion of Zoroaster

though I’m not.

I would that my

flesh be devoured

by vultures

atop a Dakhma.

But skip

the ossuary after–

have my

sun-bleached

bones donated

to university.

Except my hands:

they must

be cut off

straightaway

and buried in

soul-corrupting

soil from which

all murderers of Time

grow.