verve... vivacity... virtue...

Oeuvre II

Christian Ray Licen

That upon the absence of prosodic locution

Is an invisible real

More than touch, superseding feel

Cleaves to your sinews

But your soul, the unwavering seal!

Such incarnation's divine stance

Heave to the pocket-patch of chance

I dare not count how many

The crinkle of the silvery penny

Silent as they fall by the murmurs crease

And roll and roll half past my shadows

Before the sight of the trick

Oh, the lucky I make of the burrows

The silvery penny, still round I pick!