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NIGHT
By Quentin Smith
The night like an infinite wing
Keeps spreading towards the earth
In flowing mirrors that melt and dissolve
The air vanishes below the stars
Beyond the moon’s scarred ice-stone
A frozen-orange hall is fading
Onto a field space is pouring
An ocean of eternal silence
Into a ghost mountain’s distant glow
A purple shadow gently crashes
On a hill a tombstone breaks
In the light of silver suns
Moonlight splashes on a statuehead
And trickles numbly on its eye-dead face
Near a vine that grows blue around an elm
Starlight rains softly on a marble pond
On an island of a darkened meadow
A rose echoes the deep universe
Written 1974
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