next to of course bach
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
“next to of course bach prokofiev i
love you land of the minims’ and so forth oh
say whatever happened to the breves my
country ’tis of maximas come and go
and are no more what of it we should worry
in every timbre even deafanddumb
thy sons acclaim your glorious name by parry
by jongen by ives by partch by crumb
why talk of beauty what could be more beaut-
iful than these heroic happy dead
who rushed like alain to the scoring blotter
they could not stop to sing they died instead
then shall the voices of music be mute?”
He sang. And clanked rapidly a glass armonica
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