JS Bach was the master of the fugue. A carefully composed tune concurrently repeats, inverts, staggers, slows, quickens, in many counterpointed layers. A poem fugue cannot do this, of course, but it can reflect the core idea, as a short poem intended for repetition until a performer runs out of stupidity. Some of my fugues make no sense without repetition. Some just make no sense.
I’ve no Haiku; I’ve not mastered the stillness.
is hosted by
arts & ego
© 1978–2019 dylan harris