Saturday, February 12, 2011

Modern Fugue

Painting by George Tooker


Modern Fugue


We sing plain American
and play, achingly similar,
in a flux of singing telegrams.

Through well-tempered episodes
and false entries, we build
like a Midwest summer
fever, an infection
of synonymous tumors, ripe
with tonic chords
Gershwin would admire.

The house water runs
warm and loud until everything
goes silent; but it’s never
entirely silent, to be murdered
by a song.



Tess Kincaid
February 2011


Posted over on her site Willow Manor

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