Dery on disease and art

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The Sick Rose
BY WILLIAM BLAKE

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

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Such a damn fine song.

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A revelation when I discovered it on a loaned copy of the Wax Trax Black Box, at the same time I was reading Blake.

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I bought it when it was released. That is seriously one of the best box set compilations I own. So much good music can be found on that thing!

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Twenty-three-year-old Viennese woman, depicted before and after contracting cholera in the first epidemic in 1831.

Worst stereo pair EVER.

No-one ever spares a thought for the worms. They get sick too. A worm with a bad case of Rose is a pitiful sight.

I just got the Wax Trax mail order catalog, and eventually bought about 70+% of the albums associated with it. I couldn’t even justify getting it now.

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