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a fool imagines where hes never lived

john martone
samuddo / ocean
2015

hut
from OE hydan, to hide
for gerry loose

sea cliff

morning
a clutch
of huts

the first

thin smoke
stovepipe
chimneys

morning
stripping

your bed
in heavn

a clean morning
bird shadows
sweep my floor

those raccoons
in your hut
just a dream

turtles face

in that dream
was you

hut door
wide
open
whos
dreaming
now

footpath

timepiece

first light
orb

weaver
prism

empty white

boat on shore
oars gone home

sea-slashed

that great rock


inside you too

a gull sails above watching someone walking

abandoned

a hut for everything abandoned

he sets a cracked
petunia pot
out front

one big
gourd
where he
lives

wild grape morning glory


cucumber snake gourd hold his
hut in place

wall boards
vertical
& weathered

never

a sure hand

threshold
rebuilt
his first
mistake

table
& bed
most of
his hut

a bowl

bread to break

words fail
(a hut)

an orange crate shelter for his quan am

hut window
tall as you
little man

the spectrum

yes you put in


a broken window