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Thursday, October 8, 2009

Hawkesbury River

Little oysters
at the river
where I walked where the
black man walks.
And washed my body
In the river
Where I tied a hook to a silver ring
and tried to catch a fish
with the black man's bread I found
until the bait
vanished
Where I cracked open
oysters with red rocks
and tipped them in my mouth
and chewed on bits of shell
and was joyous
For this god given
meal.
Full now I returned
to the city
my home
one step further
on my way.

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