The Picture of the Beginning of the End of the Picture

Orienteer of the foreback,
when will 
the train arrive?
I believe we have seen this
clock before.
Our hands, yes our
hands, dissemble disassemble resemble
synonyms pronouns sentiences
until the space between twelves
goes to one. 
Silver continental breakfast,
are your edibles 
comestibles? 
Will your elitisms 
become the kinds of chasms
that end in worlds?
Call it an imagination if you like.
I like an image
as long as it never
pretends to move.