Maps

map

Maps all start with where we are

–the eye of the web, the confluence

of tenses–then move outward into

suppositionals, into the other.

 

Maps are all about that savage other

space that stretches out beyond the walls,

at the edges always Here Be Dragons.

Only foreign shores require portolans.

 

Paradise once meant a private garden,

walled and enclosed, safe and protected.

No maps of paradise exist.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s