on cartography

 

[From a larger essay project]

 

But to write about myself, I would have to be able to see around myself.  I would have to see my own gesture, hear my own tongue.  Smell my own scent.  Impossible. Unattainable.  I only know what I intended.  The perfume on my inner wrist, the hollow of my throat, placed carefully in the morning.  I cannot tell you how my body shifts the tones, only that it must happen.  A matter of chemistry.  I am not completely fanciful. 

 

See, text limits.  You cannot tell me either.  Even if you wanted to.

 

And of course, you have snuck into my text.  Invasive, invaded.  I need to map the ways I am overrun, the ways I am persuaded.  I can fortify if I can track you. If I can learn the location of the chinks you slip between.  But I am bad at mapping. I am even worse at defense.  See the way you enter, without effort?

 

0328091857

 

 

*I am writing about maps these days. Strange essays that meander without direction, and I am drawn again to cartography.  The art of leaving things out to describe.  

Advertisements

One thought on “on cartography

Please Leave Blank.

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s