Already more sounds in the world than we can hear more frequencies more attack more positive feedback more hammer and stirrup and so for all the senses’ potential to stifle scent and crowd the optic nerve so here we go into the future with nothing you made and nothing you thought you could catch no LED no registration no dials unmarked polyphony of radii boxed up for future radio * no one listens to reason alone it gets lost in the middle the top of the woofer the background voice demands the planetary holes in cones in holes as if you could talk back to geysers repurpose the steam the scavenged and the holes in walls the heaps or spread the bottom-heavy music for the shipping containers that turn the globe around * so put up your pinna your needles and hear take notes how much do the later nations diverge which are yours the tenements tarps compartments the fake wood the polymer the corrugated tin vibrating sympathetically piling on or holding everything in keeping up their own time * but the voice of the crowds isn’t yours it repeats it’s rude it steps all over itself it blows its top “it zigs and zags” corrodes or stands up rickety mortarless it depends on who has been able to stack how long can they stay * so turn away go back to fixing what you can fix as for the unassigned styles the extra amplitudes the corners out of sight what are they blaring or blending what crescendo or coda or catenary tone what do they make to cut or amplify the systems absent wires present words
William Cordova: Machu Picchu after Dark
By Stephen Burt | 1 March 2017
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