Fritz Wunderlich sings “Des Baches Wiegenlied” from Schubert’s Die Schoene Muellerin

I’m throating away

on this sunniest of days,

It was a gas

it was all that,,,,

I’m floating astray

on this sunniest of days,

it was none other than

a cataclysmic blast

A melancholic baby star

So fresh so far so deep

so black with tar

I blew the horn

and scared the hart

it left a scar and halted





How can my lot be to not

keep measuring the immeasurable?


Oedipus and the Sphinx of Thebes | Red Figure Kylix, c. 470 BC, from Vulci | attributed to the Oedipus Painter | Vatican Museums


as if the eyes removed
remove the knowing
a dumb attempt at salving the pain of
another innocence lost,
a final innocence lost
is the doing a reflex?
is it the only reaction?
to stamp out the pain by force
is this the only recourse?!
a gun an answer?
violence via messenger
and not director
a headless hole
two eyeless holes
from a search for numbness
as if all sensation were vested
in the eyes
the real flaw
the big mistake
the disconnect that keeps us coming back for a sorry more-
or that cuts us down mid-sentence
because we couldn’t think past it, much less know that the accident is finite

you see, if only Oedipus hadn’t been so selfish, we would have misunderstood him entirely.