And have you seen the photographer's dark

But strobe-lit art on the pale pink beach, 

    The bay’s long surf outlined in its stark bright 

    Reach, in its pre-dawn deco pose,

As bleached lauhala's red and green 

That cannot from its sea-rose

    Dream white-out sparks of last night's

    Grief with a movie moon that rights

All passing waves, the whirl and fling

Of ocean's scudding codes,

    A world of slate that frames

    The tiny pin of day, that opens

Up the reef and fills the reeds with chrome,

The joints of breaking world where sun

    Dispels the darkroom glare of ruin and

    Blight with the glow of sand;

Have you seen since you were young, 

As young as all these nights

    Of cloudless roads and endless lawns, 

    These sequins in the grass, these rays

Combine to form on blades of dew

Shining diamonds in the haze,

    The little eyes of glass, the residue

    Of tide and star, rendezvous

And pivot of the see-saw slide where 

Underneath an empty life-

    Guard's chair, the smallest detail of the air

    Coats our broken glass; as on a photograph,

A film of you, whose eyes contain the sky,

Who trembles in the daybreak 

    And blinks our youth awake?