„… just as I’ve said, it is nice to make such pure
and cruel poetry…“
Ottó Tolnai
Whisper it out in this way – almost devoutly. Get out and enter,
via the stone.
Lick-smoothen the voice-tone by quartz&granite touch.
Plough sand
and gravel, warm (ourselves) amorously by
white marble. Private bible:
merge in the rock where the fla-
me still
rules. The sun sparkling
is awake
in mica, lava lurks
in basalt;
adultness,
a head,
house,
hive.
Just like this – via G-O-D-D-E-S-S act – in the timeflow riverbed
seduce;
to the beginning? Back? To the vanishing point? Right
to the semen of
proto-strata…! We are m(i/a)croscopic, aqua-
and geo-
topic, we are. Fatal. Till the unstoppable
and cruelly orphic calendar of awe
breaks out from beyond us –
the identity of fish in the
structure of garden
via: coitus; A.D.
MMVI,
spiritus
sanc-
ti.
(To Humberto Ortega Villaseñor; November 2006)
Translated by Jana Plulíková; text interventions by the author.