Frequency Writers Result 2018

Frequency Class 2018 - Endless Beautiful

Our 2018 Endless Beautiful writing course with Frequency Writers in Providence, Rhode Island is complete! We led the course of four classes using the EB Method to enhance our creativity and make a commitment to “sacred writing time” for students and instructors.

We met Sunday evenings at Ada Books and spent the class hours listening, writing, and sharing. We created four custom EB Sessions that debuted each week of class as the initial writing prompt. We loved delving deep into our soundbank to build these audio prompts, featuring sounds as far-flung as a Wisconsin rodeo, the beaches of Martinique, and soundscapes from our home-city of Providence.

Ada Books proved an amazing venue with a welcoming environment and so many books to draw upon for inspiration as writers! During class, we prioritized the act of writing. We found ourselves hungry each week to spend those dedicated hours to the craft and experiment of writing using sound as inspiration. We got some great work done, and even more great work drafted!

We felt a real bond with our students, and are so grateful for the opportunity to run this course and be a part of the Frequency Writers community! We can’t wait to do more. In our last class, we recorded a podcast episode that you can listen to below!

In this episode, we each share one of our favorite pieces of writing done in class using the EB method, and talk about the class experience in general. Please give it a listen! Then go to our Store page, download a Session of your choice, and create something of your own! All four sessions created for the class are now available in the store. Transcriptions from the works we read on the podcast are also provided below.

Thank you for reading, listening, creating, and sharing with us! Here’s the podcast:

Carolyn’s Result

The rumble of the whirl follows
through the sole of the slipper,
muscle masking the bone,
the body accepting the impossible
circumference of the fouetté.

Smaller down, the thud of pistols
in the ligaments, the grind of platelets
in the blood–nothing in the body
is kind or unkind, only growing or not.
The engine of living, fuel and flames,
even in its quietest a roar.

Come to know the bounce of the spark
for what it is. The baton-twirler,
her blazing torches, spins a certain truth.
Wonder is meant to be eaten.
Wonder is meant to be shared.

If the function of the body lacks kindness,
give it some. Retool the repertoire,
let us clap ourselves into crickets,
the ritual rhythm of the leg and the wing
saying I am ready, a mote
of motion among the chorus.

Return with me to the muscle,
to the ongoing spin. Remember with me
the bloodless jump of the cricket, the flea,
the endless hunger of living–

Remember the long stretch of the leg,
the slow burn of the knee,
the ripple of the escape
and the outstretched hands
reverberating throughout the room.

Carolyn Decker

Christena’s Result

A plane soars by above me. It looks awfully low, almost intrusive. It’s a judging eye that stares at me, asking “why are you so scared to leave?”

“I’m not scared,” I think aloud.

I am lying on soft, pillowy New England grass, gazing at a rare cloudless blue sky in mid-fall when it’s usually crisp and overcast outside.

There’s a little boy just ten feet to my right, playing with a volleyball, abusing it as he pounds it into the pavement. Not looking up, not stopping.

“Oh, Tommy, would you give it a rest?”

He ignores me per usual, and I roll over onto my belly. Jesus is staring at me — tall, white marble with praying hands. Is this supposed to be comforting? Having him here, watching?

There’s a low whistle in the distance. My hair stands on the back of my neck, and I freeze. It’s…the train. But it’s not time yet. There’s a musical noise to my left, and I calm a little, taking in Henry four rows overplaying his God-forsaken recorder, as if a master musician.

For once, I’m actually glad to hear it. For once, it actually does feel like a sanctuary… that is until the train comes lurching back.

Chugga, Chugga — ugh, I hated that foreboding sound.

Why don’t I just leave this place? I think to myself.

I mean, that’s what Marissa in the 1940’s get-up always asks me. She visits her son a lot. Says he has a great time gardening in his old age these days. He plants tulips and daisies all the livelong day, when he used to deliver packages. What a bore that must have been.

I place my chin on my folded arms. I couldn’t just leave…how would I ever find my way back? What if someone actually came to see me, and I missed it?

No, I couldn’t risk it. I’ll stay right here, where my name actually means something — everything really.

Chugga, Chugga – I freeze, squeezing my eyes shut. It’s back. Just as it is every day.

“NO!” I yell. The train whistles loudly, and the ground vibrates as it gets closer and closer. It’s roaring in my ears, and I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen. I gasp, clutching at my stomach. I try to breath, to count. It should be over in 6, 5, 4… Chugga, Chugga… 3, 2, phew — it’s done. The tears on my cheeks evaporate, mist on a cold wind. That’s all anyone would think it was anyway. The whistling faintly calls out to me in the distance, no doubt promising to be back tomorrow.

I can hear the bouncing of the ball again and that infuriating recorder. I open my eyes to the looming stature of an empathizing Jesus once again.

Helga, with a bandage perpetually wrapped around her head, appears in front of me.

“You know that won’t stop, right?”

“Ah, Helga, leave me alone.”

“It won’t stop until you fix it.”

“Fix what?”

“Whatever you messed up before walking onto that platform.”

“Oh, Helga that’s a myth. I am staying right here.”

Helga rolls her shiny, dull eyes and moves away.

“For God’s sake, I’m not going anywhere,” I yell and roll over. “I can’t. I’m dead.” I stare at my name written in stone right under the statue of Jesus.

Rachel’s Result

I can hardly hear myself think over the sounds of my secretary opening and closing the cabinets, shoving things in places they probably don’t go. I wonder if she lost one of my files but doesn’t want to admit it. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that the office TV is still on football replays, but I know it won’t last. The thought of seeing Christine Ford’s face projected onto the huge flat screen TV, and worse, of hearing the comments that will follow, makes my skin crawl. I try to twist open my pen and it slides across my clammy hands, which is when I look down and notice that I’m sweating through my button down.

I walk past the TV again towards the microwave. Great. The channel already changed. People are starting to gather. My face feels hot. My vision grows blurry. I have a sudden burst of anxious energy pumping through my chest. Kind of like when you’re lost and your phone is on 1% battery and you start to imagine everything that could go wrong if you can’t find your way and have no way of getting in touch with anyone. “God. I can’t even look at a single man in the office right now. It’s like I feel a sense of betrayal from half of humankind” I overhear Allison say, as footage of Kavanaugh’s red teary-eyed face stares back at me.

The lump in my throat grows. She’s right. But she’s wrong. I scroll through Facebook, mindlessly moving my thumb, hoping for anything to replace the thoughts pummeling through my mind. “Men who speak up years after priests assault them are called brave. Women who speak up are called crazy. Believe survivors.” A friend of mine shared that one. There were dozens of comments. The first one said “Get this garbage off my timeline. The priests aren’t politicians or potential Supreme Court justices. She’s just trying to ruin a career.” I slammed my laptop closed in disgust. Am I not brave because I’m afraid that I’m admitting I’m a survivor will make me less of a man?

Lucas’s Result

Lucas’s result has been submitted for publication.

Galway Kinnell Poetry Festival Result

Galway Kinnell Poetry Festival

The first Galway Kinnell Poetry Festival is in the books! Carolyn and I spent about 3 weeks going around Pawtucket, RI recording sounds for this special session for our workshop. It was a blast exploring places like McCoy Stadium and Slater Mill during our recording adventures. It was also an amazing chance to familiarize ourselves with Galway Kinnell’s poetry. We met a lot of great people along the way while preparing for this event. Carolyn and I were excited to share what we had come up with for the session!

The workshop did not disappoint. Participants filled all of the seats in the room, and we were able to generate great art along with an amazing discussion. We couldn’t have asked for more!

Galway Kinnell Poetry Festival Workshop

The session that we created for the Galway Kinnell Poetry Festival has 21 sounds in it. That is by far the most that we have ever included in one of our sessions. As I listened to the sounds that we had collected and thought about putting this session together, I realized that the sounds represented a wide swathe of time. I found it strange that these sounds that were collected in 2018 could represent 200+ years worth of time simultaneously.

An intensity emerged. Not unlike the poetry of Galway Kinnell that I had been reading. There were a lot of small details in his poems that, at face value, might seem off-putting or disturbing. But when I would read on, I understood that I was experiencing a representation of a life that can be both sad in those details and breathtaking in complexity and wonder.

I guess that’s what motivated me to pack so many sounds into this session. I wanted to catch those small details and smash the separate eras that somehow exist simultaneously in Pawtucket, RI together. To break them. To examine their pieces and to rearrange them.

What did I find?

I suppose you will have to be your own judge when you listen to the session. I’d say, there’s plenty of complexity and wonder lurking around the old mill buildings and on the quiet basketball courts of Pawtucket.

Sounds in the Galway Kinnell Poetry Festival Session

  • Playground Slater Park
  • Work Bell
  • Frisby Golf Chains
  • McCoy Excitement
  • Paddle Boat
  • Rapid Fire!
  • Car Passing By
  • Looff Carousel
  • Dog Park
  • Walking Across Bleachers
  • Bags at the Dragon Boat Festival
  • Slater Mill Drill
  • Dam
  • Connect 4 at Breaktime
  • Skate Park
  • Water Wheel Model
  • Basketball
  • Intense Drumming
  • PawSox Rally
  • Braiding Machine
  • Take Me Out

Attleboro Community Keeper – Amy Rhilinger

Attleboro Community Keepers

Attleboro Community Keeper, Amy Rhilinger, joins us for this episode of EB. Over three weeks, Amy was part of our Keepers program at DoubleACS Studios in Attleboro, MA. She was sent home with a recorder and trained how to put an EB Session together. We listen and create with Amy’s session for the first time. This is also the beginning of a contest that we’re running for the next month. Listen to the session and submit your result on our website. It can be writing, audio, or an image that was inspired by the session. We will announce the winner of the contest on 9/15/18. They will receive a code for 5 High-Quality EB Sessions ($25 value).

About Amy

Amy Rhilinger

I’ve worked at the Attleboro Public Library for 16 years, as Assistant Director for the last 5 years. I have a BA in Art History and a Masters Degree in Library Science. I read a lot, especially poetry, and am infinitely curious. I volunteer for several organizations and events, including the Attleboro Arts Museum. I have a teenage son that amuses and inspires me on a daily basis.


Sounds in Amy’s Session

  • Typing
  • Drumming on a Newspaper Box
  • Counting Money
  • Street Traffic
  • Dog Panting
  • Train
  • Walking through a Tunnel
  • Bicycle
  • Drumming on the Metal Railing
  • Walking from Outside to Inside

Lucas’s Result


Clay thought he had heard his number 5 minutes ago. Now the woman was glaring at him across the counter. The number 9969 in hand. Crumpling it. beating it into a ball. my god she was going to punch through the glass. Clay imagine her bursting into a primordial glowing rage, grabbing a slice, like it was the neopolitan that he was supposedly waiting for, and slashing his throat. Dogs basking in the blood like it was the dawn of man. Neanderthal men and women lined up for their christening/slaughter.


Didn’t they ever think to change the number back to zero? If anything, to save on the ink. It was a pizza counter……at a bus stop.

A dog came up and sniffed Clay’s crotch. He tried not to flinch. But the retriever wouldn’t give it up and began to aggressively cornhole him with his snout. The woman stopped beating the counter and stared at him incredulously. thirty-year-old man, too afraid to grab his slice when his number was called, being molested by a dog in public.

What a time to be alive.

“This you?” mouthed the woman. She now felt pity for Clay. At least that was the running theory in his head. He imagined the dozen or so others sitting about, feet kicked up, 85% of them on phones, or pretending to be on phones, because they were now staring at him, or maybe they were really on their phones, taking pictures and posting.

What a time to be alive.

Carolyn’s Result

Begin with a sense of productive comfort,
the click of a key like
an apple caught in the hand–
quick, firm, and sweet.

Then blend, the toss and the catching
become a pulse, a quickening,
a clasping, the hum of the throw,
the reward of the catch,
the exchange–the loss.

Remember–this you cannot undo,
cannot unmake the truck passed,
the gravel flung, can only see
where it falls, sink your hand there
as you would the scruff
of your best dog, let the shake
unravel you too, give way.

Monitor the rumbling, the passing,
not always passive–the whistling
run through you in its oracular tunnel,
its telling, its spinning, the spiral
of these unknown gravities, the will
that you can push, need not only pull and hold,
can deflect, can send back,
can let it, can eat, can take.

-Carolyn Decker 8/15/18

Community Keepers Literative Contest Session

Community Keepers

Behold! It’s the session created by the very first cohort of Community Keepers in Woonsocket, RI! Along with being used for the Community Keepers Event on May 19, 2018, this session is the prompt for Literative’s contest that they have running until June 20, 2018. 1st place = $50, 2nd place = $25, 3rd place = $10. Make sure to tell your friends!

Fung Chern Hwei – Violinist and Composer

Fung Chern Hwei Photo

Join the incredible violinist and composer Fung Chern Hwei as he creates using the EB Session: New York City! Chern Hwei performs and tours extensively with the string quartets Sirius Quartet and Seven)Suns. Along with creating using the EB Method, Chern Hwei takes the time to tell us a little about his creative process and how he keeps his projects on track. Be sure to check it out!

Fung Chern Hwei Photo

Being one of the most sought after musicians in New York City, Fung Chern Hwei is an active violinist, violist, composer and arranger, both in the States and beyond. Throughout his career spanning over  fifteen years, he has worked with composer Ryuichi Sakamoto (the Yellow Magic Orchestra, composer for The Last Emperor, Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence, The Revenant), Huang Ruo (first composer-in-residence of Het Concertgebuow Amsterdam, director of Ensemble FIRE), John Williams (legendary film composer), John Corigliano (renowned American composer, Oscar-winner composer forThe Red Violin), Paul Chihara (American concert and film composer), Billy Martin(drummer, Medeski, Martin and Wood), Tony Bennett (legendary jazz singer), Bobby McFerrin (legendary American jazz vocalist and conductor, composer and performer ofDon’t Worry Be Happy), Stanley Clarke (former bass player of Chick Corea’s Return to Forever), Kim Dong Won (Korean traditional musician, member of Yo-Yo Ma’s Silk Road Ensemble) and many more. Other than veteran musicians, he also works extensively with young up-and-coming master musicians, such as pianist John Escreet (Antonio Sanchez’s Migration), bass player Linda May Han Oh (Pat Metheny) and singer-guitarist Camila Meza. He recorded full-length albums with the latter two, both highly anticipated, and to be released in 2018. Earlier this year in Malaysia, he received his second BOH Cameronian Arts Award for the Best Solo Instrumental Performance category.

He performs and tours extensively with the string quartets Sirius Quartet and Seven)Suns, both groups perform some of the most unconventional original music. With Sirius Quartet, he appeared in the Beijing Music Festival, Tianjin Jazz Festival and Taichung International Jazz Festival.

As a composer, he will be the composer-in-residence at the 2018 Newburyport Chamber Music Festival. Other than that, he also co-scored Malaysian film director Ho Yuhang’s 2017 action feature, Mrs. K. The film score received very positive reactions from both audience and critics in the Busan Film Festival, Taiwan’s Golden Horse Film Festival, San Francisco International Film Festival, New York Asian Film Festival, and the Singapore International Film Festival.

As an educator, he has been giving workshops and masterclasses around the world, including internationally renowned music institutions, such as Germany’s Munich Conservatory, Hannover Conservatory, Stuttgart Conservatory, Lübeck Conservatory, Bern Conservatory in Switzerland, Beijing Contemporary Music Academy in China and Chiao Tung University in Hsinchu, Taiwan. He also served as a faculty member of New York City’s Mannes College of Music.


Sirius Quartet:


Meadow Muffins:

Sounds in the New York City Session

  • Tip for Luigi
  • Outside Convent Ave Baptist Church – Harlem
  • Shuman Running Track
  • Leaving Port Authority Bus Terminal
  • Subway Ride
  • Leaky Hydrant Harlem
  • Chinatown Street Corner
  • 9/11 Memorial
  • Entering Building
  • Transfer Available for BCD12 Train
  • Steelpan Underground
  • Times Square Free Syria Rally
  • Lost
  • Cement Truck

Lucas’s Result

He held the photo in his hand. Photomagnetic. Polarized light. For his eyes only. Only for the price of $20,000. 22500 with the tip. Too bad daddy didn’t pay for Ben’s eyes. They belonged to the church megacorps.

He always thought church was a bad idea when he was a kid. Always running out of the VR pews to take a piss, at least that’s what he told his dad. He was really playing games in the stall. That ended when Master Preacher caught wind of Ben’s plans and cued the bathroom cams on him. Good thing he was playing games and not taking a shit or jacking off.

Anyway, Ben ended up giving himself to the Great LCD Tree for the sake a loan on his fancy eyes. That and a lifetime membership for the shitty buffet.

Crap. Salisbury steak again. Actually, he liked the Salisbury steak. The old ladies riding the metro next to him probably didn’t though. Not with that breath.

So this photo. It looked like a polaroid. At least that’s what wikiVR told him it looked like. In it was a couple skating. There was a good crowd behind them. Them man looked not so sure on the skates, maybe like he was going to break an ankle. His mother, that’s who these people were in this fading polarized picture, his mother and his father, she had a big smile. Ben’s mom always complained that his dad never took her out anymore. Maybe she missed times like this. Before he got religious.

Ben got off on his exit in Chinatown. The smells were good here. Old trinkets and Peking duck. Pennsylvania Dutch girls walking around with laser guns pointing out everything that they wished to inherit in the afterlife. Ben watched in awe as on with a white bonnet shot across the street into an arcade right into a guys eyeball. It was tough to tell if the who had been intentional or not.

Was she pointing at the jackoff cabinet? That was a machine in the arcade, not the guy? Or was she pointing at the guy?

Was anybody else seeing this stuff? wondered Ben? Nobody seemed to be paying that much attention. He did have the fancy eyes after all. But nobody gave a damn anymore. Good possibility.

“Hey pal!” yelled Ben as he flung himself on a terrified-looking woman. This was the thing to do these days. Catch reality off guard, might find the fabric of time or something. It beat dropping nukes on countries, claiming you were saving the rest of us from some jack in the rift.

“Which way we going, up or down?” yelled Ben.  

Carolyn’s Result

A stranger in the crowd says I love you,
someone else – mi amor – someone else : sorry,
“it’s slow,” “thank you,” “hey daddy,”
someone kissing, all this very fast,
rushed – a lack of hush – a choir
in between sets – and all this praise?
a fleet of feet – footsteps rubber and tar,
metal and stone – the material the foundation
the immaterial the reach – the spire,
the spine – the organ only itself with all its pipes,
the steam engine nothing without its smoke,
the elevator – the ether – the red headed
third rail lit up yellow caution, rumble,
all these bricks broken – someone made them.

“Excuse me – do you live here?”
No city without its people. Nothing more suspicious
than a place empty of souls that should have been a crowd.
The circle in the square.
The spray of the fountain somewhere its reservoir.

It’s flow frantic – a release sputtered,
a speaker, a grain press – a silo, a hillside.
Voices carved into the earth, a recording.
Fossilized. A groove in the record.
The blur, the ridge, a needle, a cyclone,
a code tearing through a block.

A wall. A door. A long quick step.
A misstep. I am angry with you.
I don’t know why. I do know why.
I don’t want to admit it.
There are versions of me within me
who scratch out all the parts,
I am a theater hidden inside a steel tabernacle;
I look beyond me. Beyond you.
The numbers are going up. The bricks are lifting themselves.

Session 66: Grandfather Clock – Free Basic Version

Grandfather Clock Cover

It’s time to create with Endless Beautiful! Make sure you go to our website to get your high quality versions of our sessions and take advantage of all of our special deals!


  • Grandfather Clock
  • Bird Whistle
  • Real Birds
  • Don’t Try this at Home
  • Bread Machine
  • Crackling Fire
  • Hammer Dulcimer
  • Passing Amtrak
  • Patio Furniture and Concrete
  • Small Chime
  • Ceramic Animal Tea Pieces
  • Blender
  • Let me in bro!
  • Tin Can

Session 65: Alocasia – Free Basic Version

Alocasia Cover

Tune in to hear the basic version of Endless Beautiful Session 65: Alocasia. If you like what you hear, check out the high quality version of this session and many others in our store at!


  • Slinky Tube
  • Siren on the Square (Madison, WI)
  • Carousel
  • We Want a Vote!
  • Grinding Coffee by Hand
  • Silver Line
  • Walking Around Laughing Martinique
  • Extraordinary Rendition Band Saints
  • Driving in Rain
  • Alocasia Leaf
  • This is Democracy
  • Stay on the Sidewalk
  • Chinatown Arcade

Session 64: New York City – Free Basic Version

New York City Cover

Free basic version of the New York City session. This session contains 14 different recordings from around NYC. And it’s all presented in 15 minutes! Be sure to purchase the high quality version of this session to maximize your experience and hear the subtle and lively details present in the background!


  • Tip for Luigi
  • Outside Convent Ave Baptist Church – Harlem
  • Shuman Running Track
  • Leaving Port Authority Bus Terminal
  • Subway Ride
  • Leaky Hydrant Harlem
  • Chinatown Street Corner
  • 9/11 Memorial
  • Entering Building
  • Transfer Available for BCD12 Train
  • Steelpan Underground
  • Times Square Free Syria Rally
  • Lost
  • Cement Truck

Session 63: Gumball – Free Basic Version

Gumball Cover

Free basic version of the Gumball session. Be sure to purchase the high quality version of this session in our store to maximize your experience!


  • Gumball
  • Playing Pool
  • Slicing Stuff
  • Bus and Crosswalk
  • Approaching Carousel
  • Nighttime Martinique Wildlife
  • Flipping Pages
  • Talking Combs
  • Spectral Radio
  • Blowing Bubbles with a Straw
  • Dry Dead Leaves
  • Gym Blood Machine

Session 62: Front Desk – Free Basic Version

Front Desk Cover

Free basic version of the Front Desk session. Be sure to purchase the high quality version of this session on to maximize your experience!


  • Front Desk
  • Waiting for Silver Line
  • Ceramic Chime
  • Alarm Clock Radio
  • Fishermen on the Beach
  • Taking Off From Logan
  • Elevator Hampton Inn Madison
  • Blinds
  • Martinique Walking Near River
  • Door Stopper
  • Ice Machine
  • Gas Meter
  • Mysterious Knocking Noise
  • Throwing a Tree into the River

Lucas’s Result

He picked up the phone. Dialed the smeared number on the piece of paper hiding in the back of his wallet. Jim was looking for 30 minutes. He thought he had lost it. Idiot.

He not man that had given it to him. Jim was capable of losing the most important things in his life. He had proven that on multiple occasions. He was been sitting on the silver line. Making his way to Logan international. Visiting family. That when the guy leaned over. Asked if he wanted in on the secret.

“I know a place,” said the guy. It was February in Boston, and a warm one. The guy was wearing a down blue jacket. Probably a bit warm on the bus.

“You said you were heading to Wisconsin,” Jim turned flush, he was upset, he had not told this creep anything. Then he remembered that he had been crying. The guy was tender. He told him to relax. That he had lost his father 5 years ago to that day. What a coincidence.

Jim sister is being a real bitch, said Jim.

“We all get a little weird when we get knocked down. It can be expected. I know a place for you to relax back in Wisconsin. I’ve already texted my friend and told him you are coming. He’s got a place out there. He’s out in the French Caribbean right now. I think he sells drugs, but he tells me he’s a fisherman. Real nice guy.

Jim looked down at his shoes. He hated taking them off in the airport security. This pair was too tight to just slip on and off. He’s have to retie them again and hold up the line. Possible knock someone’s computer or baby out of the bin.

“Here take the number and call.” He wants you to go. My friend. He’s never there. It’s got this huge underground bunker in the middle of the woods. He took me there one time. There’s an elevator. Spectral scans for ghosts. That kind of thing.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Jim didn’t know what to say. He was still hung up on the state of his tight shoes. He had stepped in a sizable puddle on the way to the bus stop, and they were sopping wet. Probably stinking, but Jim couldn’t tell. His sinuses were completely plugged from crying. What a miserable wreck. His socks were going to leave wet marks on the rubberized floor like a creep. If he he took the socks off they probably wouldn’t think he was fit for flying.

“I saw a ghost,” said Jim. There was nothing he could do about the wet socks at this point.

It was in the closet. I used to see it all the time. My dad didn’t believe me when I told him, but I swear I saw it.

“What kind of ghost? A machine type. Something that made ice or alternators for cars?”

“I don’t think so. I looked like a workman of some sort. He was always turning the valve on a pipe. He’d tip his hat and smile at me when I’d open the door.

The man in the blue jacket frowned. So no ice then.

“No I don’t think so. He told me his name was Ned. I think it was. Ned or Ted. I have a hard time distinguishing between those two.”

So the house. My friends house. Put this somewhere where you’ll find okay. I think you need some time and this is the right place.

Carolyn’s Result

Every button has a given lifespan –
so many presses until its last, a proctored mechanical fate
The train travels along a known artery,
electric pressure, cellular, red,
programmed with a genetic death date –
served its purpose – carried the data –
a mote of light shown and wicked out.

The blood has no will of its own –
the chime lingers still with no wind,
yet there is wind, there is a body
to which the blood belongs, a hand
behind the static – the string woven.

You cannot predict the behavior of the ocean
by the polarity riven in a molecule –
the emergent property, this,
the voice turned conch shell,
the wood turned flame –
a tower of mercury borne in aluminum,
the ability of light to simply go out,
a thought in an instant
to be untunneled, unraveled
from its elevator, swallowed up
in a dark metallic glow at the base of the shaft.

Given the shape of the galaxy,
we expect to be able to draw its components,
instill in our favorite illusions
what we recognize, what we admit is shaky,
a reduction, a jelly in the bottom of the pot
after all the uncertainty is boiled away.

Where light vanishes, a gravitational rumble
pushed out what we pull from it,
an inverse selection newly detected,
known because it was seen-heard-felt,
and that was enough to make it real.