from Discountry

Sky Lay White


The tracked path,
the passage
locked in the tongue is
a beast,
through a wall darkly.

Sky lay white
over footfall,
the man
left upon the doorstep
no news
he did not know.

Still water
opened the woods,
filled the air,
blind
did not know
but was
made welcome
in a strange, tangled tongue.

Joy led us where.

Song made what way.

Strange there was
a country
steepling
in the dark, as green a place,
a pod.

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Sean Patrick Hill graduated with his MFA this past summer from Warren Wilson College. He has a chapbook, Hibernaculum (Slash Pine Press, 2013) and two full-length books of poems, Interstitial (BlazeVOX, 2011) and The Imagined Field (Paper Kite Press, 2010). Sean has fellowships from Vermont Studio Center, the Kentucky Arts Council, and the Elizabeth George Foundation. He is the curator and publisher of Green Fuse Press, a letterpress broadside press.