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First Map |
© Beth Roberts | I lived once in a long landscape, with much in it. Stones trembled in the mounting water, rivers of fleshstone splayed across the glacial valley, lakes brightened their reflection, fish rose above their lives, cliffwalls pulsed across stages of weather, falling to the rolling sound, winding into forests of molded, gilded floors and glittering ceilings, and the sidelong depths. I was enlarged by the place, thus more myself in it. Later a prelude brought it back, waterfall of increments. I thought to make a map: Step . . . to locate the landscape. Stop . . . to feed from the beating distance. Swim . . . |