Tuesday, February 8, 2011

260. As if We had Set a Claim to It

within
the opening
of a map

& the strange
sound of
moving

through
realms of
folding paper

coming
over us
& closing

whatever
it is that
we cannot

see
of wherever
we aren’t

at any
point in
a peripatetic

life
is how
we

seem
to believe
that

the world
as it isn’t
& simplified

out of
the fact
of an oak

at the
southwest
corner

of the inter-
section of
a street

and a
street
rutted

with potholes
and the way
our car

hits with
its right
front

tire into
one of those
holes

hard
enough to
send

a message
through
our teeth

and into
the cluttered
version

of our
thoughts
that we

keep close
at hand
just

in case
we are
ever

asked to
describe
our life

in enough
detail
to know

the differ-
ence
between

what
a map
says

is there
and what
our eyes

also
confirm
is there

along with
whatever
the map

left out
so that
our

imagination
and our
memory

would not
have to
be

the same
size as
the clumsy

earth
we move
within

because
we have
bodies

that force
us
to move

through
space
even when

all we
ever want
to move

through
is whatever
memory

of space
would
unburden

us from
the serious
weight

of gravity
and its heavy
sunlight.

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