25.
the
stars
so brightly on your brow
move
one
glows in
my hand
like the sapphire
26.
ashen eyes
gently the arch of
your lips
a darkness in
the
night-sky
bursts
27.
a
white
dark
shape
brushes the blood
from my eyes
I
see
the throbbing
breath
of
the waves
— Bruce Conner
From Provincial Review,
produced in May 1952,
published in 1996
