It’s all a fugue and everything
has to come
again and again through all the doors.
Look out all the windows,
sleep in all the beds,
hide in the cellar and run out over and over
because that is the nature of nature
the minute you let it
turn into the oldest music.
There was no music before Bach
or maybe Biber,
just people being beautiful out loud
then something happened
and beauty lasted longer than itself