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Back Porch in Plunge

Moon lit backporch
next to the Baltic sea
where my soul lies
washed in the sea
and sometimes sleeps
in a hammock
swinging under its own weight.

 

The blemishless
reflections in the Plateliai
make it difficult to
distinguish up from down,
and God from the dead Salmonid
lying at the bottom of the lake.

 

We have very long nights
and sometimes we venture to the
inside of the house
where the TV sits and
watch movies through the long darkness.

 

My uncle tells me that if
I fell through the Earth,
I would end up right in his
backporch in Auckland.

 

Then I can stay there
for a few days
and then I can come back
very fast and create
a fishing hole in lake
when I emerge slightly drenched.

[A poem, that I wrote back in 2002, but then forgot all about it.]

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