Radio Thin Air by Nick Flynn Keep the radio on softly so it sounds like two people in the next room, maybe your parents, speaking calmly about something important—a lack of cash, the broken cellar pump. Marconi believed we are wrapped in voices, that waves never die, merely space themselves farther & farther apart, passing through the ether he imagined floating the planets. But wander into the kitchen & no one will be there, the tiny red eye of the radio, songs that crawl through walls, voices pulled from air. Marconi wanted to locate the last song the band on the deck of the Titanic played, what Jesus said on the cross, he kept dialing the frequency, staring across the Atlantic, his ear to the water, there, can you hear it?
