ISSUE: Fall 2012
We are not allowed to take photographs.
Not allowed to tell you certain things
Or which things those are. The screens
Display results if you know how to read
Blues and yellows spiking and shading, showing
The eye how much noise there is
At each frequency. This place is clean,
Electromagnetically speaking. We can hear
Lightning strike anywhere in the world, shifted
Electrons whistling and cracking, diving
Back to earth, the wind playing
Its parts. If a nuclear bomb goes off
The instrument will notice. It moves its flibberty-
Bits faster than sound. This I believe
I’m allowed to tell you. I’m not allowed
To show you how it’s done. Above us
The ozone layer thickens and thins, and somebody
Knows that too. A machine collects air
And turns it into numbers; someone plays
The guitar leaning in the corner. Me, I can’t
Stop listening to the weather. Picture
Disturbance, and with it a sky you knew gone
Static, pin-pricked, too dark.
