Theoria 1
Eyes: which mute words traversed
from out of the ancient plains.
The mouth
found a voice in prehistory
the sign
bore its strange
tidings from dwelling to dwelling, irreversible,
humming in their heads like a curse
the aghast message from a ravaged earth.
What apocalypse
drove the first beasts into madness
into the arms of the animal, man,
shrinking away from tundra to tribe
as language began?
The logos
exploded over land and sea
splitting their minds in confusion and raving;
the wordangel
sowed her portents in dreams
casting them out of the literal dark
into the real – livid and strong,
in which the waters give back
the rough visage of a terrible dawn
gone
before the scream breaks within
and the beast sees man’s glance returning to him.
Old father, where are you running to?
The rivers have opened your mind to a torture
time is founded when the word comes to slaughter
the old primeval nights
the old dumbfounded dwellings.
Breathless in your pursuit
breathless in your agonised footsteps –
slow down for me father, slow down,
let me follow you into the future…
With word magic
uncast the ancient spell
of his terror, necromancer.