Five

0127
It is somewhere you have been many times. This room. It is now, but not. Always this time of year. There is cigarette smoke, swirling in the dark. Somewhere, someone is–– Visitors must sign a liability waiver. There is no DJ. There are no sofas. There is no bar. There are no dancers. There is no Health &––. There are four walls (Of Mirrors, Some Distorting.)

You are

A speaker stack. Black. // Emits a

Bathro/om-lig/ht-on-string /ECH-O/CLICK/whit/e plas/tic square/roun/d bre/ast-shaped, litt/le-flick-[nipple]sw/itch/
Do/lly/reed/flu-ted/Ba/ke/lite/di-mm/e/r/knob/
ECHO/CLI/CK-CLI/CK/fluoresce/nt/ buzz/cli-ck/cl-ick/E/C/HO/scra/tch/strip/flutt/er/ba/t/t/ter/moth-on-pap/er-la/ntern/click/thousands of/
REPETITIONS

(it is something like that)

pulse––//

––alone

[Bass Pushes at Cone]
Volume. Rises. Like––

0440
Dry ice. Clouds. You cannot–– Your outstretched––

[A Waterfall]

0513
One minute before–– It is coldest now. Colder than air-con.

[Bass Pushes at Cone]

0515
Flowers that emit a heavy, sweet scent at night-time to attract moths are often pale or white and without ultra-violet, reflecting surfaces.

[A flood of jasmine, honeysuckle.]
Somebody hands you a / blank–––

0517
Light switch audio/blur then fade/to birdsong.

Breeze––

A skylight OPENS.

Title: Basement Room, With Speakers. August.
Materials: Hand-built speaker stack. Dry ice. Jasmine. Honeysuckle.
Karen McCarthy Woolf is a poet