Issue 11, Winter 1955
I who was born to believe in the power of law
was maquis at heart.
I who wrote that a tapestry stretched to the moon
Needled with dancing of women more beautiful
than ever they were
lied in my words.
I who saw first the image and after the man,
Heard in the tune, not the whole, but the words,
Not the fact of the song but the incident glee
slept with the corpse
of my brother Cain,
and dreamt his doom.