O Word, My Dolly-N
O’ Word, “My Dolly”
You are not fatherless for my Bibliogenesis
I feel you in my veins Parthesiogennesis
With the traffic-jammed, like an egg unfertilized
In my polluted blood, my desire streepteased.
The world is made up of things that don’t speak
But they have a language and a reason to seek.
Erotic wet desire to form embryo Erotogenically
Love you in dear one’s mouth Aesthesiogenically
Mould you in good shape with your mouth’s vault
So the world can hear you in the heaven’s court.
O” Word,” My Dolly”
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* In March 1996, the news of the birth of a fatherless sheep affectionately
named "Dolly" shocked the world. The possibility that human beings could be cloned too -
long the subject of jokes and science fiction - began to awaken an inner fear.
We are bombarded by meaning, every day, at all hours of our lives. We spend our time
interpreting the signs that the world hurls at us. Let’s think instead of the world of Dante,
but also that of Petrarch, Ariosto, and Leopardi: everything in their texts indicates that
they were born of a solid, monolithic, and healthy subjectivity, which is sure of itself
despite appearances
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