FUGUE

       by

  Klaus J. Gerken

     (1981)



     I

Winter's settled february gone
Blasted through an ill-harangued disquietude
That, touching each our hollow lives,
(Stiffed with straw - our heads are full
Of tabloid insignificance...)
Breaks us in two - diviner's branch
With hope beyond the leash, or so
"The market's down" - God calculates,
We would presume, this present force,
(Presentiment), is moist like Heracleitus's souls.
Ah well, their rambling thoughts express
What were to be (as most regress)
A formulae of such immaculate perplexity
(Scrub gently now behind the ears!
The fool knew more, but less than Lear?)
That those like Bacon, More, to whit
Could hardly call their spirits up
Th' unravel these triangular sublimities...
That's certain from a twist of fate...
Those gambits form a clear debate
In parliament, I mean, to bring our Constitution "Home".
Such be it dear to all our hearts...
To all our hearts? - (Medieval times -)
Procurement of a piece of dirt "beneath our
Feet...) -
           I mean, the blood runs down
The edge of sword - wriggling free,
The army triumphs...gains the upper hand
In some such desperate department through the law
(The lowly clerks are MOST depressed!)
Tongue in cheek - There's lot's of work
To audit work or work to audit - what!!!?
Christ who died upon the cross - what 
Martyrdom was this? - Perhaps the Roman
Sentries were to blame? (The famous
Shroud we cannot date yet pay
For in an endless theological debate...)

There's always poison where men meditate...