Monday, November 12, 2012

Gene Frumkin


                The escalator
      is a dangerous enemy
who could trip you
                one step at a time.
This is how the mind works,
synthesizing dream with substance.
                     Or as Jung
           with Freud.
      The substitution
of ground for holiness
      claims voice as a reason
      for old tribes locating
                          the sun
                     as figures
in the act, at the window.

           The future derives
from sleep, evolves into gods
                          and animals.
      This is a process
      that F. chilled into
                vintage prose.
           Jung warmed
to the blooded world,
not alone. The human collective
      describes the enormity
of a single voice. How the
                poses like God
in his mystical cellar.

      Yet F. too brings the good news
that deciphers time
in focus, traveled by a map,
                as if one could say
           there it is! now is as good
                     as anywhere.
      Everything is abstract
           in its origin almost
                     as if Plato
           believed in the verity
of his good republic.

The escalator goes flat by
           steps. It continues
           as breath does:
                two men in blue suits with vests.
      The moving sidewalk is
                     no less.
It slows into watchword, and if F.
           abhorred the occult,
           Jung compared sexuality
      in the psychic order
to a hidden grammar,
           dogma on the harpsichord.

           mystery, lens-defined
A science rises from obsession,
shaped like the Golem of Prague,
but who remembers
                his song?
           Jung catches flies
                instead of fish.
F. hangs his briefs
                on the line.
                     The world is all
                all there is
           to imitate.
Time limps behind
the escalator, F. stands
           with a stopwatch,
      Jung with a camera.
Mind in slow motion, caught in breath.

fr.  Freud by Other Means
[Albuquerque: La Alameda Press, 2002]

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