/ /

For the moth / Bends no more than the still / Imploring flame. Hart Crane

Brakhage collected tufts of grass, flower petals, dried seeds, dead

moths from porch lamps. He tore off moth wings from the abdomen, antennae

by compound eyes. Remnants pasted on filmstrips, he lined up wings, implored the flight

with green, pressed seeds around torn off petals. He wound dead moths on a reel, projected

light through wings. Pressed leaves in books mark passages. Pressed wings

and torn petals in filmstrips mark light, intricate single flight, muted and green.