It’s Not That It’s Blank and It’s Deep, But It Curves, and It’s Dark

We’ve been forecasting so far
Along rhumb lines, accurate
Only so far. The ocean

Hidden under our numbers
Curves in some way we can’t yet
Comprehend. Our measurements

Yield lovely entanglements,
Mysterious force changes,
Abysmal discrepancies

Between our geometric
Feel for the whole enterprise
And the probabilistic

And fiercely sprite-like habits
Of its smallest explosions.
So far, our calculations

Have served well for portolans,
But there’s something we’re missing
Beyond where we go missing.