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?