Going to work to get past the loose leaves,
plowing through with rake and glove.
A radio that increases the increments.
Volume is the way sound fills a room,
searching for an echo, master the electrical vibration.
I have no sine-text.
Everything is one wave or another.
All things, all things, all things.
Where we fail is with what we do.
We miss the dial, the motions of
finding the right place on the spectrum
that place where nothing fits.