This poem is taken from PN Review 83, Volume 18 Number 3, January - February 1992.
The Anomalous BlueSurely it's not still called
The Azure Dragon of the East?
You could strain that sky
for ever, dreaming days,
letting the light pour
away, and never trace
any particles of blue.
Far from the soul-mangling
flinty shingle of nine-
to-five, you can play the timeless
lounger of the dunes,
snuggling up to the friable
day-bed of August
with its curvy vacations,
staring at all that yonder,
or staring at a whole genre of colour,
...
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