Anna Taylor


Shape of the valley

Where water

and earth had passed.

Resonance and future movement

grain, scratch

Reach and fallen,


Bow wears a path

carved by repetitions, the hair passed over it.

A place before the thing happens. And which retains it

Is static.

A constant sound

A continuous note.


The body in preparation.

Grounding, posture, pressure

hold, tuning, grip.

An object

Is a pull down?

Or the pull towards

Towards and away from

Two hands separate.

To the heel,

To the tip.

Even tension

Hold back, measuring space,

Sound like a circle

How the body met it.

Hand reaches to find the note

I hear it first,

Then see


We were looking for water

Following the path

to where it is most resonant.

Stone precipice,


Or a point of past immersion

Over, looking down

low passage between

Obscured by the overhang.

See out, across and not beneath

(but hear it)


Space contained

hollow and emitting sound.


Being and seeing yourself being

on the other side

Across, under, connecting held up

weight line to ground

My body is divided.


Back pressing earth

So as not to fall.

Lines weave

a connecting mesh

Drawn between, listen deeply


Magnetic core to furthest sound


in perfect tension

Dots, distance,

internal sound

Into, there.