How Does Time Behave on this Planet?

I open my eyes. Half in darkness, half in light. Around me, a landscape that has been desertified. No one else seems to live here. The atmosphere is thick. There is sound of thunder that comes down out of the skies at night, that hides in the clouds and growls. There is lightning. And then silence, between waves at the ocean.

Are we on an island?

There is you. There you are. You are lying next to me. Breathing calmly.
We are at home on the flatlands. We long for the solid ground. For everything to exist. We have so much space to share. But now: With us dead birds. The sky isn’t up there; it’s between us. No. It comes from everywhere at once.
All this remains very strange.

You are moving. Actually, you never stay still. Actually, you never stay. Otherwise you’ll smash everything. Like a machine, a cyborg; but also a plant, living, dying.

Often at night, I am familiar, close. I am blood. But when you stir, you disturb the order. Worlds stand or fall. Final versions do not exist.

The world has this in it: The stars up above it. And this: The ice, the mirror. But not that: No exuberance, no turbulence.

We could enter into the nature. That sameness in which we have remained for centuries. Our horizon will never stop expanding. For us the sun does not simply rise or set. It’s like: I open my eyes. Half in darkness, half in light. Around me, a landscape that has been desertified. No one else seems to live here. The atmosphere is thick. There is sound of thunder that comes down out of the skies at night, that hides in the clouds and growls. There is lightning. And then silence, between waves at the ocean.

Are we on an island?

There is you. There you are. You are lying next to me. Breathing calmly.
We are at home on the flatlands. We long for the solid ground. For everything to exist. We have so much space to share. But now: With us dead birds. The sky isn’t up there; it’s between us. No. It comes from everywhere at once.
All this remains very strange.

You are moving. Actually, you never stay still. Actually, you never stay.

Otherwise you’ll smash everything. Like a machine, a cyborg; but also a plant, living, dying.

Often at night, I am familiar, close. I am blood. But when you stir, you disturb the order. Worlds stand or fall. Final versions do not exist.

The world has this in it: The stars up above it. And this: The ice, the mirror. But not that: No exuberance, no turbulence.

We could enter into the nature. That sameness in which we have remained for centuries. Our horizon will never stop expanding. For us the sun does not simply rise or set. It’s like:

No other geography is available. There is room enough, but there is nothing beneath. An interface between the sensible finitude of existential territories and the trans-sensible infinitude of the Universes of reference. No ground subsists. But no abyss, either.

– Stephan Eberhard & Nele Solf

für Dominic Looser und Ernst Jandl

Habemus
Dem Bartem dem Stoppelm
Den Taten den Drangen

Habemus
Alledem Stoppelm abgetrimmem
Und getatem dem allem Stoppelm
In 1 Krassem Tassem

Habemus
Getatem mehrerem Malem
Bis Krassem Tassem
sein halben-leerem mit Stoppelm

Habemus
Aufgefüllem
Krassem Tassem mit
Sichernichtstichfestem Yologhurt
Bifidus

Habemus
Ungerührt
Das allem
Und habem ausgetrunkem
Krassem Tassem im 7 Schluckem

Habemus
Stolz verkundet:

Habemus Stratschatella

La poésie d’abord et pour toujours
La poésie nous berce dans le sommeil
La poésie transperce nos cœurs
La poésie nous transporte ailleurs
La poésie fait couler l’eau dans nos paysages imaginaires
La poésie nourrit les têtes en l’air
La poésie rime avec tant pis
La poésie nous aide à digérer les vicissitudes de la vie
La poésie donne du goût à la solitude
Rêveurs dans tout le monde, chantez la multitude !
La poésie me fait penser à ta voix douce
La poésie d’abord et pour toujours !
Vive la poésie !