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I could never dredge
a duck-pond let alone
memory‘s well

with a cross-cut saw
I divided earth from sky

every Sunday
the light drowns
in my dry well‘s shadow

I could never walk over
an ocean that was
fathomless despite its clarity

I circumnavigated an oak‘s growth rings
I tore the story apart
waving like a survivor

a moth rasps at the altar
like nothing else
to honour our Father

16.1.1985, Pacific Street, Dunedin


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