Drawing the Horizon
Drawing the horizon
An awkward affair it is,
To map a line on limitlessness;
To write a word for the unimaginable.
We encounter the world to create paper worlds.
The longing to draw a black line:
To mark, to limit, to own.
The strange ways we try to take the earth.
Drawing a face on a faceless face,
So we can speak to the sky
Throwing it words, language, sounds
Which mean nothing at all.
I’ll extend my hand,
And imagine that it has been kissed by the wind.
I’ll tell myself that the rain’s teardrops are
My teardrops. I try to hold
What I cannot.
I think about drawing the horizon,
About explorers who bound up
Their wander/wonder in maps.
And it all seems absurd.
Absurd, even, to write this:
This awkward encounter.
Drawing the horizon
An awkward affair it is,
To map a line on limitlessness;
To write a word for the unimaginable.
We encounter the world to create paper worlds.
The longing to draw a black line:
To mark, to limit, to own.
The strange ways we try to take the earth.
Drawing a face on a faceless face,
So we can speak to the sky
Throwing it words, language, sounds
Which mean nothing at all.
I’ll extend my hand,
And imagine that it has been kissed by the wind.
I’ll tell myself that the rain’s teardrops are
My teardrops. I try to hold
What I cannot.
I think about drawing the horizon,
About explorers who bound up
Their wander/wonder in maps.
And it all seems absurd.
Absurd, even, to write this:
This awkward encounter.