Fall 1958 • Vol. XX No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 1958 |

Corrales 1948

In the ear of night an upheaval of frogs—Then, immense, a patched sky face Drowsing by. Waxy hedges Click like hooves to a shower's ricochet Till wetness drinks itself in air And frogs devour velvet mire. Is it a moment to be torn awake With eyes' red riot dangling reins Broken from the drifting mare of night? What world of heaving hill and ditch Is this? What absolute drenched shine For the tricked eyes to clamber on? Deaf to years a clock makes minutes. Blind to motion curtains quicken. Through the window's speechless clarity Sprawl the silvered ogres of the real. Behind dark's pure domain of cheat Glints the mind half-webbed in sleep. Behind rimmed stone, rimmed flesh, rimmed mind Startles in its mirror's deeps, To the imaged surface swarms up hot For touch, and cringes. Touch tarnishes The silver shine, the dimming image Dies. Night tramples down the mind. The plumped up void succumbs to sharpening Light. Owning eyes, blurred open Over telltale leavings where t

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