Aleatory Melodies
Are sonnets chancy music pieces, fey,
More like a mistress in a corset when
Victoria reigned? Do they lead astray
As some silk-corseted comedienne
Embarrasses with innuendo or
Their saucy message. Are they like twelve-tone
Sonatas rigidly controlled or more
Like Barraqué’s creations deftly sewn
With patterns freer than the serial
Composers writing strictly near in time
To him could manage? Tight, ethereal,
Sublime or tortured with a formal chime,
These sonnets and his pieces make their marks,
Their natures trapped like brains in hunting sharks.