Poems from Quarantine by DEVON HUNT, Volume I-II
Presented by Mars Projevt
Photographer DANIEL KOLOMIYETS @danielkolophoto
Makeup and Hair BETH LEVEL @bethlevelartistry
Model MERCEDES HURZELER @mercedes_hurzeler @musemanagement @imgmodels
Stylist EMILY PUCKETT @emyli21
Assistant DELANEY PERROSET @laneyperroset
The aged glare of old suns
shines through our darkness
and gives us, briefly, pause.
To them we hazard number;
assignations fantastic as
their shapes, hammered into order
[yet] Time is peopled in measure.
Eternity has no [[other]] standard.
Only the heaven on hand.
[Hell around the corner]
—
Poem from Quarantine
by DEVON HUNT, Volume I + II
Requiem to Anyone Unknown
Verily is the void
larger for your absence,
but for reason the rather
that it could hold such a spirit.
For the heavens on earth
couldn’t measure quite it,
and I’m certain for I
could never imagine its wealth[[/extent]].
Without which this/the world
was nothing else but yours,
and thus if passed not little
that has gone from it apart.
This catalogue of man’s thought,
symbols pressed flat
in a thin ledger of wood pulp
and fibers, cued by small shapes.
Wonder how one ever learned
of another for their mind
and thoughts, that months
by thousands cannot separate.
Glove DSQUARED2 @dsquared2
Bodysuit TOPSHOP @topshop
Shoes KITULANDY
This capsule of our soul
keeps the latter portable.
Mobile, if ephemeral.
Upwards chimneys wriggle
until the horizon’s [like] a jigsaw puzzle,
cutting crisp jagged silhouettes
into shade and shine and the final
piece to bind earth to heaven,
either never made or missing.
I could tell the time by her smile.
Come dawn I’d see four, easy.
Dusk had three, slanted, shy.
Night a single gleam,
moon dripping off her teeth.
