Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Quaestio Mihi Factus Sum, Iocus Tibi Factus Es

In the most wearisome condition
That one could vividly picture
As though moving from one form of unknowing
To the other
A sempiternal age
Of replacement
Without change
In the recollection of events

Humourless cynicism
In the image of life
Just about melting
Into a text
Weaving the umbilical cord
Of a groundless existence
That falls through the abyss
Of its own pivoting point
In anxiety
No longer knowing itself

Revealing knowledge
That one couldn't withstand
Like the Prophet
Staring into the flame
And turning over
The water
From one moment of dignity
Into a paradox of history
Creating mankind anew
Without railways
That lead no place else
That do not sing echoes to anything

Sempiternal silence
Of civilization
Of urbanization
And only death
Makes a screeching noise
And laughs
With the rest of the world
As the moment to grasp the idea
Flees as an owl
And returns
After dusk
In the motionless
Of unknowing prophecy

Breathless enchant
Tired au-voir
Of pleasant faces
And neurotic sights
In a refugee
Of wordly chasm
With so little ground
So little space
So much choking
Under a parabole
Under a metaphor
That contains only filth
That for a moment
It's turned into jade
To green the mellowing brooks
The yellowing brooks
Into piles of hay
And disappear
With everything else

No Hyperion can be heard from here
At the bottom of the earth
Whereby good meets evil
And turns his face away
In the blindness of azure lights
In the freedom of the Israeli
Bows to Gods and idols
Imagining a different fate
One with so much less meaning
One without images of glory
Two sides
And a Roman owl
Protecting its lies
As though a shrine
To hide
To scream
To silence up
Before the major laughter
Before the blue Octavo

You've made a joke of your own suffering
A rather silly comedy
That sells in the stands
Without initials
Without characters
With a plot nowhere around
You've been like Eve again
Answering the question
No one had asked
In the nudity
Of your rootlessness
In the nudity
Of your father
Before a great narrator
In such unearthliness
With the chains of heaven
Riding on your chariot
Begetting atonement
For the fatal mistake
Of those questions

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