ChaosoahC

I know the only truth! The others – cast aside! There’s no need for the men of Earth to fight with others! Look, there’s the evening soon and soon it’ll be the night. What you about, colonels, poets, lovers? Now wind is near the soil and dew lay on the grass, The starry blizzard soon will freeze into the heaven, And soon under the earth will sleep each one of us – By whom a sleep on it to others hadn’t been given. Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, October 8, 2004

Suppose we had a finely tuned, ultra-sensitive instrument that we could use to zoom in on and tune in to the nuances and subtleties of nothingness. But what would it mean to zoom in on nothingness, to look and listen with ever-increasing sensitivity and acuity, to move to finer and finer scales of detail of . . . ? What is the metric of emptiness? What is the measure of nothingness? How can we approach it?

Deer Quake Now the deer fever tears apart cells inside my ravaged, already so harrowed leather body. In my breath, tracks of moon wind are smarting against the throat and windpipe. I have moved around the deer, I have fastened my fibers to the hard dancing deer. Steam rose from frozen wells, ice floes chafed the channel, cold sweat broke out of the skin wall between my being and the cold. It was a hopelessly treacherous time. I have moved around the rare glass deer of September. I have moved around the timid water, by the closed border of the fiber deer. And the crack rushes through the black glass. It crackles and shimmers, it quakes in the deer, it quakes and quivers in the breastbone deer. The leather falcon flies north in sky-shrieking torture. There is a light in the deer, there is a light in the deer, there is a light deep inside the cavity deer! Now the blood surface song surface is heaving! It quakes through me and the deer. Fibers ache in my sharp border. Now the painful deer tears now it breaks. Now the deer and I burst and are exposed -