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  • 标题:Breckinridge Mill Dam: Virginian Summer.
  • 作者:Rivera, R. Flowers
  • 期刊名称:African American Review
  • 印刷版ISSN:1062-4783
  • 出版年度:2012
  • 期号:March
  • 语种:English
  • 出版社:African American Review
  • 摘要:Breckinridge Mill Dam: Virginian Summer
     ... This place was shown to be very like the last lime. A piece was not exchanged, not a bit of it, apiece was left over. The rest was mismanaged  --Gertrude Stein, "A Frightful Release" (1914) Victorian, how you fall like water for gravity and anything else that pulls you down, claiming chaos--your natural state. In Steinese, a dam is a dam is a dam. But is it? Am I? You descend in angry fluvials--blind rapids determined to find entrance to pumice-grey stones devoid of all mortal sensations; the rocks you choose: of Gibraltar, of Ages, Stonehenge, any, any, any hobby-store quartz or common fossilized stone. Smashed-faced water sprites skim your surface then cling like white-knuckled vines suckered to your back--a tight eddying habit. You have no desire. You kick, bite, scratch, fight as you course through my fingers stretched wide as floodgates, enraged that I make no effort to catch you. I will not, I shall not. As minnows dart between my toes, I strip to midwaist and dive away, exposing more of myself than you can bear.  
  • 关键词:Historic sites;Humans and nature

Breckinridge Mill Dam: Virginian Summer.


Rivera, R. Flowers


Breckinridge Mill Dam: Virginian Summer
 ... This place was shown to be very like the last lime. A
piece was not exchanged, not a bit of it, apiece was left over. The rest
was mismanaged
 --Gertrude Stein, "A Frightful Release" (1914)
Victorian, how you fall like water for gravity and anything else that
pulls you down, claiming chaos--your natural state. In Steinese, a dam
is a dam is a dam. But is it? Am I?
You descend in angry fluvials--blind rapids determined to find entrance
to pumice-grey stones devoid of all mortal sensations; the rocks you
choose: of Gibraltar, of Ages, Stonehenge, any, any, any
hobby-store quartz or common fossilized stone. Smashed-faced water
sprites skim your surface then cling like white-knuckled vines suckered
to your back--a tight eddying habit. You have no desire. You kick, bite,
scratch,
fight as you course through my fingers stretched wide as floodgates,
enraged that I make no effort to catch you. I will not, I shall not. As
minnows dart between my toes, I strip to midwaist and dive away,
exposing more of myself than you can bear. 


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