A. E. Stallings
i.m. Baris Yazgi
Reports said you were found Clutching the case Containing your instrument as well As music of your own composition.
You knew what it was to place Faith in a hollow wooden vessel, Carried on waves, lilting in harmonic motion, Scales like water running through your fingers.
I think of Arion of Lesbos, and his harp, Saved by a dolphin in the legend; Of accidentals, flat and sharp,
Of pitch, and yaw. I think of the deep sound, Of the bow rolling across arpeggios, No bridge but the violin’s bridge.