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I've a door in the wall, bathroom over the mantelpiece, library over the bedroom mirror and living room in stairwell.
Dining room chairs lurk here and there. Sheds glutted to gullets.
Time's twisted in my little cabin space, familiars unfamiliar as yet in place.
Two houses in one tiny house, debris akin in dignity, (slumming it, elbows in, breathe in)
as on some narrow-boat 'Kon-Tiki' shaking down together.
..................
Moved some furniture and pictures from my mother and father's sold house into my tiny abode (which is full of remnants from my marital house). Mother's house refugees include a door my father had painted in false wood grain, now placed next to a bookshelf against a wall in the living room. PS. I 'm not reely on a boat. Apologies to the Prologue In Sh. 'Romeo and Juliet'.
Media: that Icon of grasses and heron-skull my father painted.