Get 20M+ Full-Text Papers For Less Than $1.50/day. Start a 14-Day Trial for You or Your Team.

Learn More →

Horizon

Horizon elizabeth woody Horizon, palm to palm, exposure f/64, tonal shades on glass plates. Long exposure. This will continue. Pause. The kissing mists tongue and teeth. Arcing neck is a bridge. Repetitious hands move lengths of hair, back, smooth hips, shape pose. Inside the orange meat of a yam is pale yellow. It falls apart in its own juices. The old hot plate, a blackened porcelain cube. Music of any empty transistor radio, round dial frozen. The eternal wop-wop of the center, unrecognized flexible spine shivers with vibration, the eyes and the Eyes, swaying ache of muscle. Clumsiness is to tear apart coherence. Peaceful, skin sounds in the grooves that play digital. The hips continue in parting. Spirals are for centrifuge. It is no longer light. The dark recognizable as a chamber of throat and chest. Inside, a child in the lap space of happiness hears music. It is more. It is the shaking interior of seeds. Interior of flowers. The legs are crossbones and creation mixing. Mirror. A thin black pane between perception and flesh. We are the sweet sweep of eyelashes. We are more than water purged of anger. 152 frontiers/2002/vol. 23, no. 2 Belly sinks into http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies University of Nebraska Press

Horizon

Download PDF
2 pages

Loading next page...
 
/lp/university-of-nebraska-press/horizon-4AZ08itYt1

References

References for this paper are not available at this time. We will be adding them shortly, thank you for your patience.

Publisher
University of Nebraska Press
Copyright
Copyright © 2002 by Frontiers Editorial Collective.
ISSN
1536-0334
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

elizabeth woody Horizon, palm to palm, exposure f/64, tonal shades on glass plates. Long exposure. This will continue. Pause. The kissing mists tongue and teeth. Arcing neck is a bridge. Repetitious hands move lengths of hair, back, smooth hips, shape pose. Inside the orange meat of a yam is pale yellow. It falls apart in its own juices. The old hot plate, a blackened porcelain cube. Music of any empty transistor radio, round dial frozen. The eternal wop-wop of the center, unrecognized flexible spine shivers with vibration, the eyes and the Eyes, swaying ache of muscle. Clumsiness is to tear apart coherence. Peaceful, skin sounds in the grooves that play digital. The hips continue in parting. Spirals are for centrifuge. It is no longer light. The dark recognizable as a chamber of throat and chest. Inside, a child in the lap space of happiness hears music. It is more. It is the shaking interior of seeds. Interior of flowers. The legs are crossbones and creation mixing. Mirror. A thin black pane between perception and flesh. We are the sweet sweep of eyelashes. We are more than water purged of anger. 152 frontiers/2002/vol. 23, no. 2 Belly sinks into

Journal

Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies – University of Nebraska Press

Published: Jan 9, 2002

There are no references for this article.