Marc Cohen
STAIRWAY BEACH
Another dream has no time
To give to itself.
It
is clawed
By the raven who basques
In
the sunlight of permanent
Literary history. After another
Woman, another still rounder woman
Appears, lifting down to another
Pit of envy. I must stay away
From the cinema, and the sad sheets
Of darks and lights . Rivers
Jolt with the sun, the yellowish thing
Strides against rivers, and there is
Always after with the stars.
Each new subway rush
Puts the older man in our face.
It
was a snow of poor circumstance,
And a steady spring warmth
That wore the cables down over
The Atlantic. This is not
An anonymous dream, it has a caller,
And one who answers in the night,
And toils with a girl's choir.
You have to use the sand
For something. The sullen ships
Are undone by the oak cut piers .
There were no Christmas parcels
