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Argus

Argus On hot days I grow a little too complacent being clever: like making love and watching yourself making love in your mind's dirty, happy eye —that double exposure when balance exceeds limits set and you forget to stay inside yourself, experience and meta-experience not properly meshing —do they ever? !ese days, camera phones mean no accidental double-exposure, no two-in-one as spooled film nears its end but won’t let go of sprocket teeth, or thumb forgets to wind a knob and separate moments join in time ghosting together what never was: I'm thinking of the ancient 1940s Argus 36 millimeter my father gave me back before a boyhood trip. A black box as heavy as a brick —never anything new in our flea market house— but oh, what pictures that camera took! A paperweight now, a roll of film still in it —pictures of what I could not tell you— though each sharp snap of its single-reflex lens made sure that boy knew this world depends on light and dark working together. KELLY MQUAIN http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Argus

Appalachian Review , Volume 49 (3) – Sep 10, 2021

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

On hot days I grow a little too complacent being clever: like making love and watching yourself making love in your mind's dirty, happy eye —that double exposure when balance exceeds limits set and you forget to stay inside yourself, experience and meta-experience not properly meshing —do they ever? !ese days, camera phones mean no accidental double-exposure, no two-in-one as spooled film nears its end but won’t let go of sprocket teeth, or thumb forgets to wind a knob and separate moments join in time ghosting together what never was: I'm thinking of the ancient 1940s Argus 36 millimeter my father gave me back before a boyhood trip. A black box as heavy as a brick —never anything new in our flea market house— but oh, what pictures that camera took! A paperweight now, a roll of film still in it —pictures of what I could not tell you— though each sharp snap of its single-reflex lens made sure that boy knew this world depends on light and dark working together. KELLY MQUAIN

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Sep 10, 2021

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