Sometimes I think of Bach,
working a stick with his mouth
to get notes he couldn’t reach
with his hands and feet,
so the sweet catastrophe of counterpoint
could break the hearts of his parishioners.
And while we’re on the subject of music,
think of the monk who dove
and dove again into dark archives
to rescue from oblivion
the Gregorian chants of Leonin and Perotin,
whose names have lasted while his remained unknown,
though what they’ve dubbed him,
Anonymous IV, makes him less unknown
than other unknown writers.
Still, in the sacrifice business,
there’s no guarantee of fame.