can express our sad bewilderment at the prospect of your absence here:

"Nairobi Blues"

"Stop all the threads, cut off the search engine,
Prevent the troll from rooting in the bargain bin,
Silence the morons and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let clique members gather, kvetching ever on,
Pretending not to care, or notice--He is Gone.
Put blue checks round the white necks of the Poems Fray doves,
Let the Fray editors 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 his work would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the Ghost and deactivate Run,
Wipe away the archives and sweep up the spam;
For nothing now can be worth a damn."

The above was used with such piquancy in the Fray tragicomedy, "Four Flushings and a Farewell". Or was it "Four Farewells and a Lecture"?