Arrivano i dunque

An auction of thoughts. I look for the best (s)ufferer to put up for bidding the verse of things: maybe bird-like, maybe poet-like.

I start from the outrageous, for the refusion, with conjunctivism; I cross the misunderstanding, up to the unit of immeasure, between art and fate, flamingos and pyromaniacs, van Gogh and Bangkok, good and Mahler, blood off-hand and stigmata, stigmata and astigmatics, Dalí up to Allah.

There’s reality! To join to the existent the new-other ho(l)y-ness, in our larval fry.

Roughly following my extinct ones, praying that I keep infniting.

I let myself get carried away (married or saved from drowning?).

Time is tight; it is not always an embrace, but rope or sheet.

It is enough to lean over the precip-perce-pice and hear the undemonstrabilising shaman-humanism translated into exasperanto.

The scenography is “eschatological,” the blue sun, the young shutter up (hermetic because I am mystery), an altrist in a thealtre where nothing happens without everyone.

Almost there? Is it all pointless?

Not for nothing everything asks!

Alessandro Bergonzoni