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Stravinsky’s “Agon”

by B. Z. Niditch

With a labyrinth of frayed notes
on scribbled sheets,
with an ardor astonishing us,
augmented on a ladder’s podium
by an oak brow on a human face,
my great uncle knew
in the muted spring,
Igor, you composed
with pensive fingers
on a baby grand piano
by the swell of the baton
in the shifting wind
of augmented chords
on fabled scales
of twelve-toned peaks
with a string of voices
mirroring light-years
as a musical visionary awakens us
on sunless days
from the underground
into sharp harmonies
of reshaped nature.

Copyright © 2013 by B. Z. Niditch

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