Durégesis #5: [Have mercy, how long]

(Being one in a series of animatics / animations in anticipation of [out of nothing] #7, “time ⊕ (nothing ⇒ but)”; forthcoming, Fall / Winter 2013.)

It is coming.
This longest unholy expanse
where what’s contrived,
the very weave
of the very,

alters into a terrestrial soil
and nothing occurs
to notice or to taste;
seeing and savoring
in speaking.

Those already are innumerable.
The fabled proclaimers quit
their crafts, wearied and dwindling
as the earth in turning turns towards rift.

If such grain remains, there is still a named world
to be told. A world that has been thrashed, yes,
only to come into line, so smoothly unshackled.

Only, who is who
before one latest
picture: the last?
One that is no one,
at a bodiless standstill
until the end
suits its end.

(Frames: “The Bus,” by Paul Kirchner.)

(Stanzas: based on a poem by Ernst Meister; for a more accurate / less latitudinarian rendering of this poem [accompanied by its original, in the German], please consult In Time’s Rift [Im Zeitspalt], trans., Graham Foust & Samuel Frederick, Wave Books, 2012, pp. 84 - 85.)