The American Dvorak, String Quartet   His cello spoke to violin,     Now tilt me something new will light me to that vowelled within     beyond where words construe.   His fiddle was a diplomat, made nuance finely where aristocrat went slantwise at the common people’s fare.   I’ll nimble you a melody    where pollen takes the warm and trout hang in gold lethargy    below where gnats perform.   I’ll spiral you sheer mountain walls    where snow lifts off like smoke. I’ll nuance old world rigmaroles     of dancing gentlefolk.   A blue bird filled the canopy,…