thoughts.

so i really really really love this. i found it on my sister's page.

there is a measure that maps don't get-
the up and the down of things.
from here to there is all right and plain
enough, two steps to this place, nine steps
to the edge, i see the elevation lines,
of course. but they don't look like Gold Hill.
i know. i've been there. on a map, in lines,
they look more like wrinkles on a knuckle.
but a hill is not made of lines. it's dirt there.
i know what i'm talking about.
though, to be fair, i can see that when i fold my fingers
my knuckles do become little hills.
looking at the scale of the map: the hair
around my knuckles, that would be a small forest.
it's what you are supposed to believe:
one inch equals one mile. just like that.
i'm saying, there is no wet on a map, only ocean
and sea; river, lake, some more words about water.
the word lagoon is there, but without any laughter
at having put that word in the mouth. lagoon.
the map says water, but doesn't say it
differently or oppositely from land.
the map of you is like this, all lines, all
words. so is the great, folded map of me.
all wrinkles. that's the map of us
the world gets, and then believes:
we are what the map is supposed to do.
we are the up and the down of things,
but a map has the folds drawn on, and easy enough.
ours are earned and not flat at all.
you can feel them. it's us, pushed down
in every one of those lines.
our map is flat, but only to the eye.
we are the inside of the lines of the map.
we have folded ourselves into something: a real
word, wetter than this map's water.
the map is everywhere on us.
you and i, that's what we've done to each other.
you can't believe the lines on a map,
but the lines on me,
they're what a map wants to say and can't.
we have made ourselves into where we want
to be, folded ourselves up
in our knees and our knuckles, our necks,
the lines beneath your eyes,
everywhere in the fold of my elbows.
one inch equals one mile: i believe it.
that is us: in our arms, held out,
some days just coming home, just tired,
our arms held out toward each other.
one inch equals one mile: i believe it.
it would not be the first time i have seen such a thing.
-alberto rios


i think i need to read more of his poetry. beautiful. makes me feel things and i'm not even sure what.


two other things i want to research and need to write them down to remind myself later tonight : the amish and craniopagus twins. 


here's me in my new three dollar hoodie from walmart. it is very warm and even though i normally wouldn't wear this color blue i absolutely love it.