Bandwidth

It’s a fond device
Of science pieces
To stress how little

Of the universe
Your senses perceive—
Less light than the bees,

Less sound than the bats,
And nothing of all
Magnetic wonders.

That’s not your problem.
Your problem is that,
Given your senses,

Such as they are, you
Tend to ignore them
Except when they go.

Love those pathetic
Sensations you’ve got,
The glow in the clouds

The scent of wet dirt
And coffee brewing
On a street corner

With crickets and cars
And broken concrete
Where you stand, balanced

A moment. This dims
Soon enough and goes,
What’s more than you’ll know.