Sunday, February 19, 2012

Joshua Hussey



we map them understanding
that they were immense,
covered with fruits and flowers,
a single iris into an autoclave


perhaps of its trees, their green platform,
of a grassy lawn; feel that there—
were immense, covered with shrill cries
perched, one after an other


it was also the time of them,
from them was borne upon the same,
as in a balanced whole, of which
was borne upon the brows of women—
now were immense, covered all trace:
the idea of perfection
which was borne
upon the unwooded parts


that it existed for some
was ever more that we were
                        all manner of birds,
in places where the trees held,
continued, still embedded
among the splash of the rest||
                        the shrill and the shrike


in those disquiets, in that other time,
the sky the shore of them again,
against as we crossed in a scattered sequence
without knowledge, directed it on our way


stumbling to the dovecote,
the sky was grey;

they passed in a scattered
all trace

we map them with a wood,
that it existed for a world

Joshua Hussey
is a doctoral student in English at the University of Georgia and is working on a long project on itineraries, the itinerant and Susan Howe. He has published work in Verse (review) and poetry in the Eugene, Oregon based Denali Literary Magazine. He lives in Athens, Georgia.