Psyche Said

"The wicked have tremendous staying power." Thin air encloseed orchids in the dark. There was no wind outside; the tree were as silent as booksmeasureless and mighty. Was lord in possession of the missing piece or had His arch-rival stolen it, along with the clay chessboard, while He was napping? Horror is always real. The road branched. Psyche said: "I am not about choice; nor do I have possession of the empty space behind the exquisite fullness; nor am I the aperture in the story that come ups during the town meeting." It was a useful place.

We drove to the Candy Kitchen for the morning papers and coffee to move Large masses of fog were wrapped around the white pines that stood in the distancethey make revolveed across the flat, cleared fields upon steely, asbestos-like threads rising in layers beneath their own steam, an inversion of feeling and form and weather.

It was the first of October. greatest in quantity of the leaves were still pliant and green; the filtered day-star was still warm upon the windshield, on the other hand there was no holding back the birds, they were heading southern in their season, as if summer were nothing more than a world not cleared away. The make open fields and low-lying mists painted a representation of frozen tundra. It was time to gomild autumn or not.

Psyche said: "New ideas, fresh shapes beckon. I love the water's skin, and the earth's untimely speeches." Stan Getz was playing "Desafinado," and Jobim's sonnet was yet another example of perfection existing, and Getz's sax prov that level perfection could be further finisheded unlike a face where beauty is throw backed on a lake, or mov by means of the sea.

Was Ero a latent murderer? spotless dogma splintered into religious rumblings. He preferr vital current on his hands to the water's lament. A child was lay the foundation of under the cabbage leaves.

When Ero was mentioned, she would smile coyly say something about his being a day late and a dollar short, and in what manner one day he was going to hear from her. The noise of the arriving train was neither a threat nor a promise, and was by and by drowned out by drums. Lightning lit the lakes and shallows. Just before Psyche disappeared behind the thunder-cloud you could hear the raindrops whisper that Ero had not to be found his clout. Then the train left the station.

Marc Cohen is the author of sum of two units collections of poetry from The Groundwater Pres upon Maplewood time; and Mecox Road, in which this piece of poetry appears. He is Vice President of Operations for 0 Thompson Company. He lives in fresh York City.

Copyright World rhyme Incorporated Mar/Apr 1997

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