05.5.2014

Parse

Dawn marks the wall

a thin flange of
off-blue

An imagined
silence

Always an imagined
silence

The speed
at which sleep’s
fogged dialog withers

into the present
noun-scape

This rift valley

A volley of
seasonal beacons

Window
where mind

finds orbit

All a world can do
is appear

Glare
echoes glare—

the window
intones

A room
whose walls

warp with sun

What’s seen
is dreamed

We think
ourselves here

Joseph Massey (© 2014)