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.