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Turn Jane Wilson Joyce Appalachian Heritage, Volume 12, Number 2, Spring 1984, pp. 32-33 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.1984.0056 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/438478/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 21:43 GMT from JHU Libraries ->!, by JANE WILSON JOYCE I wish I grasped the grammar ofour situation, how it is that failing to follow sequences we confuse action and existence meaning to make distinctions subtle as multiples oftulle obvious as the block ofwood tucked in the satin shoe You lie still somewhere or are moving somewhere Your leaving left me your dust to eat I make no sense of your obituary 32 its prose smooth as the itinerary ofstone water travels over I cannot abide to take steps to face what I cannot see knowing I must forgive us both our journeys I am afraid ifI speak the ache ofthe pinched nerve splayed redhot on the inner or sing pain's true pitch and weight, its falling rhythm will call the tunes to mind causing us all to rise up to rise up and dance over the cliffs raw lip into the clear idiom ofsilence I step in under the cool roofofstone http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

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Joyce, Jane Wilson
Appalachian Review , Volume 12 (2) – Jan 8, 2014
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

Jane Wilson Joyce Appalachian Heritage, Volume 12, Number 2, Spring 1984, pp. 32-33 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.1984.0056 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/438478/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 21:43 GMT from JHU Libraries ->!, by JANE WILSON JOYCE I wish I grasped the grammar ofour situation, how it is that failing to follow sequences we confuse action and existence meaning to make distinctions subtle as multiples oftulle obvious as the block ofwood tucked in the satin shoe You lie still somewhere or are moving somewhere Your leaving left me your dust to eat I make no sense of your obituary 32 its prose smooth as the itinerary ofstone water travels over I cannot abide to take steps to face what I cannot see knowing I must forgive us both our journeys I am afraid ifI speak the ache ofthe pinched nerve splayed redhot on the inner or sing pain's true pitch and weight, its falling rhythm will call the tunes to mind causing us all to rise up to rise up and dance over the cliffs raw lip into the clear idiom ofsilence I step in under the cool roofofstone

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2014

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