Illocality
To imagine a morning
the first
sounds from the street
and the house, its halls
scarifying
consciousness
Antique glass
smudges limbs
(more blue
than green)
flared out
over a roof
To imagine
the raw circumference
of a field
as it wakes
what we make of it
where our senses
send us
Gray oscillates gray
and the mountain
a line
lodged within it
gone slack at the end
No need
to mention
weather
The yard—
the measure
An unkempt
garden bed
convulses
synchronous
with traffic
flashing through
the fence
Stone bench
in a ring of weeds
Shadows ring—
a sound
Bees doused in
viscous sun,
erased
Copyright Credit: Joseph Massey, "Illocality" from Illocality. Copyright © 2015 by Joseph Massey. Reprinted by permission of Wave Books.