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This is the way it turns out today:
the hum of bees in the bottlebrush
with a bird in the birch above me
as I lie in my hammock at Kersbrook.

Eighty eight white cords
connect to the eyelets
and bear my weight
in perfect distribution

as is the case
with other supports
that work together
but are hardly visible,

and as it was before yesterday
aboard an outrigger canoe
that carried me with the south-west trade
from Salien to the mainland of Manus

where the base of the mast rested free
in a carved socket on the thwart
the tension of the sail reliant
on the harmony of four hemp stays.

Friendly Street 28, 2004

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