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Evening

Grass (red fescue) with narrow deep grey blades;

painted steel glowing also violet

as lights go out in the field; and moonlets

on the parapet above the field grey by gravity.

I scribble on one side on a box Paradise

and on the other Purgatory as evening grows quasi-

infinite. One surprises the other--

continent, monument.

This poem appears in the 2003 Anthology
View all poems by Josey Foo