4.ii.22
763
3.35
I dream the game
for a
map of the heart at home
for the
philosophy of table tennis
same as a heartbeat
back forth
on table bent timber
but out in the garden stone
the come-again breath
fashioned in leaf fall
tumble of gumnuts
off a flat palm
above and behind
imagine an edge extends to infinity
I dream the game
so it must be
as good a mystery as any
rain on a roof
but one at a time
impart no spin
from fingers
bark falls about us
seasons change
this is a public display
we go to look for the ball in the bush
that little world attributed elsewhere
like trouble, we always bat it away
the little history of how
in no straight lines of vanish air
light crafted
guess next
we the breeze across
one signature of time
same as a heartbeat shared
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