June 29, 2026Bach’s Bones
A skeleton alleged to be that of Johann
Sebastian Bach was exhumed from a graveyard
in Leipzig, Germany, in 1894 …
However, our critical assessment of the
remains analysis raises doubts … We believe
it is unlikely that the skeleton is that of Bach.
—The Medical Journal of Australia
Sebastian Bach was exhumed from a graveyard
in Leipzig, Germany, in 1894 …
However, our critical assessment of the
remains analysis raises doubts … We believe
it is unlikely that the skeleton is that of Bach.
—The Medical Journal of Australia
Before that surgeon blanked my eyes,
before my final mass’s final note,
before I reached for Anna’s face and cried
one last time, I was carried by my bones.
I was a runt, a snippy, stumpy child,
but still I felt that surge in my skeleton
all growing creatures feel, and I unfurled
like an etude made of veins and eyes and bones.
I spent my youth hunched at the keys and pedals,
putting voices in the voiceless throats
of organ pipes. I crawled into wind-chests, fiddled
with stops and treadles, tuned singing metal bones.
I grew into beer and choirs, fugues and brandy,
I fattened up on mutton and chaconnes.
When I sang, I sang with my whole heavy body.
When I went blind, I saw with my bones.
Cantata of the knuckle, skull concerto,
sonata of the metatarsal toes.
Fibula, tibia, ulna, cartilage, marrow—
I wrote vast oratorios of bones.
They found my corpse face-down in a Leipzig ditch,
or thought they did. Now a farmer who died alone
is wept for in my tomb in St. John’s Church.
They mourn my name. My bones are not my bones.
from #92 – Summer 2026
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