Maps

Were always lines
cast toward lands
I’d one day see. Whole worlds
rested within a dot,
and there were always more
dots (beyond rivers, past oceans)
marked London, Beijing, Paris, Canberra,
Rome, Reykjavik, an endless catalog
of possibility.

The blue passion of Pacific
Ocean isles, white distance
falling away from Everest,
tan grasses swimming
over African savanna.

Age shrinks hope
to a cold, hard longing
as I flip pages
of vast distance
never crossed.

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14 thoughts on “Maps

  1. I can spend hours poring over maps or spinning a globe, contemplating all the places I’d like to visit. It’s almost never too late; it isn’t age that restricts a person from travelling. “an endless catalogue of possibility” — Yes! Love that line.

  2. Sorry about comment above – what I meant to say is this is fantastic – I love the way in which you caught the way pouring over maps shifts with the years passing…. I think you should go drifting… I do that around my suburb and always find surprises πŸ™‚

  3. Nice catalog! With Canada, UK and Australia all pink. πŸ™‚

    Hey, you’re just getting started, Matt. You’ll get to all those places. The wise ones say we can travel there in our sleep.

    But I do know that cold stone of pain too, for Venice, Vienna, Barcelona, et al. Bring me the Tuscan sun. And the Sydney shore. I guess we can get ANYwhere tho, eh? Just not EVERYwhere. πŸ™‚

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