The Laughter of the Ionosphere

In a CD memory, information, envying the lake.
The mixing distance. An analog ballet.
The video and the least spectrum of distortion,
visually unscrambled
for a new whir of rain, as with thirst,
without regard to nature.
The Xerox principle.
It's the sheep-track tape with the wolf groove,
necessary centering to stereo human computers.

Result: Sounds, and the building and presence of actors.
Objects, however, unwilling to subscribe.

The brambles absorb radar.
To be broken is one of the basic conditions.
Its vexation carrier's genial radiations
in a kite, between music,
provide the transmitting mischief.
One radio tower to fly yet.
They were expected to send straight predictions.
The changing breath of the horn of commerce.
The detection of a perfume.

[First published in > kill author, Issue 20.]