A Set Sin

The beginning spun all through the called curtain
and produced no memory, no photograph
except for the fragments that drop a mist
onto the motions of the day and scroll
past, eating the dinner of eternity.
This waiting, why will it not introduce

a single sign, a flash to introduce
the coming of a tear in this curtain
which has suffered, hiding an eternity.
Instead these symbols, or a photograph
buried in a library of a scroll,
are all that can be grasped within this mist,

this drink of liquid that makes film, moist mist,
and clouds the eyes. When will it introduce
these names, these words of breath, into the scroll
which contains no missive. Draw back, curtain,
and unveil the blankness, the photograph
that resides before this shown eternity.

This could be the after death, eternity
enveloped in this lit blanket of mist,
simulacrum of a trace photograph
of features, or a way to introduce
the guided, collapsing fiction curtain
that has been frayed since the first grunting. Scroll

on, abyss of whitened slack raging, scroll
on candle within lightening eternity.
Let this city of enclosures curtain
lecture each man and woman in the mist
about the possibilities. Introduce
all to the electric field photograph,

all around this visage, the photograph
that disappears when shown the coming scroll.
Whatever had been made must introduce
its own ruin and this mindless eternity,
perpetuation of last days in mist,
should be broken through, or else drop curtain

and run. Introduce the whole photograph
and the death curtain will dry out; the scroll
of eternity will parse within mist.