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The pure, pale curve of the woman's thigh — the intrusion of the haired knee of the man. His arm circling the white of her back. Her fingers playing upon the knolls of his vertebrae. Their faces meeting and closing to a line between two forms of white. The pulsing line between the white of their two bodies. The rivers of their twined legs. The darker curves of their bodies turning into night. The hand of the woman as a star against the dark of the man's hair. The moon overcome by clouds again.
The hand of the woman fallen upon her moving breast suddenly stilled to a frozen pool of white star crossed. The sun, fierce in a blank sky.
The crooked fingers of the woman hooked to her breast in this new light. The feet of the woman black against the ground. Her other hand lost and cut among rocks.
Her face dead as her eyes are wide, her smile idiotic as the continual peace it suggests. And yet she is hauntingly beautiful. Up to the forms of the hunters against the blasting sky. They wag their heads.
The sun again and down to rope, down rope to the agonized face of the man hanging by the neck, down his back to the sheriff and his deputy standing beyond the hung form shaking their heads.
The hand of the sheriff crossing his star to pull a knife from his jacket pocket. Followin his reaching up reveals the sign attached to the blood-ribboned front of the hanged man. It reads "BEWARE THE DOG." Then the form of the man drops down and all that is !Dft is the blank of the sky. THE END titles -black on white.
(Prose script, Denver, 1956) '
Dissolves of mountains make great softnesses of them, a mountain range becoming transitional as clouds. The lowlands are a shift of scenes pin-pointing around twin lovers against the grassv The dreams of geographic lines fade to the solidarity of their bodies. In the break the sun is the vision of the boy in a white blindness. Each part of the girl's body then becomes a dream, dissolving into each other part, herself apart and each part transitory as the world he's thought to have inherited. His lips move love1 ike.
Flickering shapes of mountains, sharp as lightning streaks.
Her eyes shift over terrain that catches like a net and holds fast to this clearing where life lines of flowering weeds stalk too close for comfort.
A hand crawls in the grass, its spider fingers searching out a prey. She stands and the horizon sinks around her. There is a house behind her, and a dark mountain, furred with trees.
Her hands fly to his clothes and she clutches him desperately, seemingly gathering him up into her arms. They kiss and the yarns of their body lines thread together. The valley and the mountain ranges spin around them. Something with five fingers creeps over a stone.
They rur. hand-linked together. And as they run their shadows lengthen before them and the shadows of the valley reach beyond them and the house itself is then in shadows and its windows flash lightning. It seems to take them until night to reach their destination. The landscape behind them, they race in as shadows into the shadows, enlargingly closer. They are laughing playfully, then breathlessly, then hysterically. And the door shuts black against the mountainous background, enclosing them in a dark hall with mirrors where they can see themselves and large stuffed animals on the walls. There is only the sound of their breathing.
The boy observes the animal heads, the serenity in a semblance of life, the glass blank of their stare. He is reflected in their eyes.
She stands uncertainly in the hallway. It is empty, yet there is a sense that something has passed through. The eyes of the animal heads are alive with a mysterious light, an electricity. She turns to the nearest mirror and sees a monstrous boy with a sense of such mysterious power yet beautiful calm that one would think of the walking dead, a trespasser from that world which guides all our lives with its strength yet remains detached in our memories. He is covered with blood and stands with an axe in hand. She turns as if to confront him, confronting only another mirror with his image still reflected, standing. She turns again in a rage and finds herself in her lover's arms. The eyes of the animals die into the darks of their bodies.