Improvisation in a Fugue, 2003

Lamps along the path were lit;

spirits danced the air.

Shapeless jurors nod and smile.

No one has a care.

 

A healthy mind is all one needs,

to fight the tempters sent,

to fight what Mara brought.

The drink machine is obsolete;

desire can’t be bought.

 

Strange hymns come, yet I walk on.

A faceless jury claps along.

I fade out again.

Belly dancers always bring,

this chaos out of me.

I’d rather drift away again,

and marvel the golden sea.

 

Belly dancers, dream machines,

you’ll see me on the hill,

watching those for whom you shake,

until your hips are still.

 

Follow me into the storm,

to dig in graves of yesterday.

Would you engage a game with me—

and be played as chess is played?
With nighttime spent,

the nighttime ends;

not with a bang, nor whimper,

but with a comma again.

 

Childish tears alone downfall;

blind men wander in the hall.

Eyes go wide,

chest goes numb;

the Oxen sees the sun.

Sees the world and knows,

how a snowflake feels to leave the globe.

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