On Wide Open Spaces

On Wide Open Spaces

  1. I’m simply a girl,
    a simple girl,
    lost in the legend of a map.

Where lines converge
there are names I can’t pronounce.

If there is a line I can follow it.
Even straight lines curve
without our knowing.

With distance we are
Imperceptibly ants from above,
giants from below.

I simply long to be lost
inside a map sensibly creased
and awkwardly refolded.


I’m a simple girl,
simply a girl,
lost in the expanse of a page.

I knew a word
and forgot how to spell it.

It looked so strange
as it changed from tongue to page.

There is a science
to our lineation:

ruler-lined college composition,
imagined margins of typing sheets.
I was told a writer writes.

How simple it is
to sit and fill a page.
At what distance can I be a masterpiece?


Simply put,
it is torture to those with eyes
to see and not speak.

I was not born with teeth.
Letters were merely sounds.
I imagine better tongues
for my words.

Simply simply simply
a girl, lost in the expanse,
repeating the words

until the words
look less like words

and more
and more
and more
like mistakes.