Piano Sonata No. 11 in A Major

Piano Sonata No. 11 in A Major
always brings to mind
a certain game of Tetris
played in childhood on our family computer
— the astronaut level, or maybe it was
the Russian hockey player scene,
so difficult in speed that it seemed the pieces
had a magnetic pull to the bottom of the screen
and only great dexterity and mental acuity
could win a higher score than my sibling opponents.

I’m sure that’s what Mozart had in mind
when he composed the Turkish march so many years ago–
that the ballerinas flouncing around the stage
would eventually begin falling into formations
of twos and threes,
possible even long contingents of four,
in their matching tutus
as they pas de bourrée and jettée across the floor
until the whole cast had clumped together
in one mass of pointed toes and arched arms,
finit.

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The Work of the Seasons

This love that seemed to be wasted,
spent carelessly and forgotten like autumn leaves in the wind,
left these branches only barren enough to give more life,

and all these winter sorrows that seemed too much to bear
were quietly building up the strength in these limbs
to be laden with the weight of much fruit.