shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Clark Holtzman

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My Bach

That's the mind in counterpoint,
Arranged against itself as one,
Allness singing the all-in-one song:
One mind, two hands, a keyboard.
From such control to so much release . . .

Yet after only so long, so many bars,
One of them (the hands) wanders
A late lane glistening from a late rain,
Lost, or appearing to be, in laundry
The burghers have hung out to dry.

How pleasant to be among them.
How strange, how wonderful,
This total absence of fear.
And the fugue of it is, nobody,
Not one, seems not to see, or hear.