Maps and Transcripts of the Ordinary World Kathryn Cowles (english readers txt) 📖

I write: Walk out of the woods I have taken

a photograph with an empty spot the empty spot is yours.

I write: Take it.

I write: I can almost picture you.

I AM WEARING A PINKISH SHIRT

and lo and behold you are wearing

a very pink shirt

life is short or so they say

there is a beautiful girl with a baby

her baby is not here

moths fly against the window uninjured

every single thing

with every single right thing

HYMN

A song. Praise be. And the whole congregation joined in. A song I sing to know where I am. Copied word for word from the old hymnal. #30 All Is Well. #92 For the Beauty of the Earth. A transcription. For the organ. For the choir. These lines correspond to the keys correspond to the bird sound. A printed version of the bird sound. An arrangement with an entirely other instrument. For use with the choir. For use with the congregation. A printed version of an audio version of a person singing. A record. A set of instructions. Notes rendered simultaneously, and in this order, and in this way.

THREE HOURS IN A ROCKING CHAIR OUTSIDE THE BLUE-ROOFED BUNKHOUSE IN THE WIND

Four dogs and me all of us looking at the sage and how the wind blew at it calmly but determinedly. Violet was in front. Kili looked like a still photograph of a dog and Violet looked like a home film recording.

Addie tried to eat the deer leg so Kili snapped at her although Kili had not been herself trying to eat the deer leg and in fact did not want to eat the deer leg and in fact did not try to eat it even after she snapped Addie away. Addie stopped trying to eat the deer leg.

The wind stopped then started. Addie sat at my foot. Violet had rot holes in her teeth. Violet wanted only for me to scratch her head.

The wind blew at the grasses like a time-lapse recording of grass growing so that everything seemed sped up. Addie ran 100 feet away and Violet sat at my feet. Rita had been sitting this whole time in the grasses looking like a real dog in real time not a recorded or photographed dog. Addie found another bone.

Now I’ve caught you up.

The clouds are huge. They move quickly respective of clouds but slowly in visual comparison to the grasses and that is part of why the grasses seem so fast motion, so sped up. The mountains don’t move at all but sometimes the clouds moving make the mountains look like they’re also moving, an effect similar to what happens when a person lies on the ground in a snowstorm and looks up.

I am always on this porch wrapped in a blanket. There is always at least some wind. Picture this. The invisible wind. Its evidences. The wind can blow so hard that whole dogs blow over. I am always looking. I have tried to write it down. The ordinary world. When I did, and when I didn’t, it was always still there.

A RECORD OF WATER YOU CAN’T SEE

The evening lights are a map lifting the city

above itself, its yellow face stretched,

the lit city visible from the moon but

missing key particulars, dark parts.

And the long lights from the port

bend like legs into the water

left, left, right, kick,

and the water disappears in the dark, turns to

black blank space between moored boats, black hole,

the port’s yellow lights

dragged across the gape,

long live sparklers, falling candlesticks,

which are not in the water at all,

are all that’s left of its shape.

METAPHOR: DESCRIPTION, USES THEREOF, SIDE EFFECTS, INTERACTIONS, ETC.

A figure of speech. A shift. To mean in a new way. Mathematical. As in, equal sign. Or mystical. As in, I see myself there but I feel myself here. Words possessed. Or a consolation prize. As in, if I can’t have ---------at least I can have ---------. A transference. From the Greek, to carry over. Crossing the bar. A name that means something quite other than what it says. Some substitutions must be made. If I can’t have you, at least I can have the desert. If I can’t have the desert, at least I can have a dog. Using the closest corresponding letters of an entirely different alphabet. A bird sound rendered in hyphenated lettering. A word with a picture on the other side. A flash card. A pointing back. To William Blake, as in, the --------- is a --------- because both are holy, holy, holy. A rose is a rose. If I can’t have my dead dog, at least I can bite my own arm. Can grow the basil plant. Praise be. Holy arm. Holy basil plant. Holy blue roof. Holy photograph. Holy actual world. Equal sign equal sign equal sign. Holy equal sign. To point not to me but up and out.

MAP LEGEND

Rd: road

(Posts): lined w/posts

Wood: hand-hewn, Wire: hand-tied

The white dot: Violet the dog

Three black dots: the other three

Jerry: I love how you’ve planted the sage

Jerry: how random the pattern

(Ha): laughs

Sage: random pattern

Rain: rain on sage: rubbing a leaf in wet fingers

New configuration: see how the dogs have changed places

Car: see how the moving car changes the configuration of the dogs

Blue area: the bunkhouse roof

Blue area: sky, with missing parts

White: missing parts, clouds

White: still snow in the mountains

Rain: changes the configuration of the sage

Sprinklers: rotating, sourced from well water

Rain: turns the sprinklers up, but makes them seem less substantial

Rain: reconfigures

POSTCARD

A picture on the other side. A pointing back. A copy. With space for a small message. With space for a mailing address. No return. A pointing forward. A blank. An explanation. Roping calves at branding on Flathead Creek. Montana. Ohio. Livre d’Heures, mois de septembre. The color of the sea around Sifnos. The size of the mountain. The type of bird that was common. Looking ahead. A copy of the painting. For use with a stamp. A printed version. A copy of the castle. Of the page from—. A photograph of the dish with fish and tomatoes. Anchois de Collioure. Sans