From the collection The Immediate and No Sooner, 2021.
Haiku 831
6/30/20
The map apportions
The lines radiate outwards
What road should I take?
Haiku 832
6/25/20
Corrugated road
for a small spider on foot –
brown cardboard box flap
From the collection The Immediate and No Sooner, 2021.
Haiku 831
6/30/20
The map apportions
The lines radiate outwards
What road should I take?
Haiku 832
6/25/20
Corrugated road
for a small spider on foot –
brown cardboard box flap
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I love the second poem as I think often about the epic journeys that insects take just to move around a room or house. I have some resident spiders (I call them roommates) that travel around the house and I think about how much effort they have gone to in order to relocate.
The first poem made me think of learning to read ordinance survey maps when I was wee and how that sparked an interest in maps. Nowadays I enjoy taking random wanders around google maps and streetview.
The idea of what it must be like to be a tiny insect in this enormous world has always fascinated me. The spider poem came from watching one do just as the poem says, try to cross a cardboard box. It took a lot of time for him to do it. And I also like to wander via Google. I enjoy seeing places I know I will never visit, or to better understand where far flung friends and family live.