the globe

I found this old globe, alright? All washed out-looking and occupied with places that have been conquered by more powerful places or new economic ties or merging ethnic interests or swallowed back like an aspirin by furious oceans. I took this thing, then took a pointed and new black marker and clustered a million tight circles into a single fat dot.

It was right off the featureless coast of a massive island whose topography was mainly crested and irregular scallops of ugly plastic.

The dot I imagined was an island of my own. Not close to the land, but close enough. A strong swim or more, amidst the copper grid and the squiggles that show the depthless flow of green salt water.

I was sick of all the bullies on earth. And the bully of earth. So I felt right bullying back, distorting the natural order of the miniaturized representation of it. That marker couldn't be erased—by person or the draining power of sun or anything.

I made sure of it.



(incredible textile image by fellow Wisconsinite Leah Evans)