Mephistopheles, with the heavy old wine

Mephistopheles, with the heavy old wine

Letters break the light where stark naked swims Jesus,
a carpenter's son, a cunning, hypocritical, handsome,
seductive speaker. Quick. Young. Fragile, sensitive
likea lens out of the range of the craftsman's hand.

The prints of the bare feet in dust are the measure of
clemency,of warmth. On Spinoza'a dropped eyebrows
clustersof the glassy dust glitter. Silicosis shakes off the
theses of the Treatise on Faith. The mob rejoices.
                                                       Roars. Asks

for the death of the heretic. Anathema is a relish;
the salvationis in death, the tired Spinoza hums. What
to dowhen the rabble is blind, he wonders bent over
the writings; to change the names of things, the
                            tokens of men, and to suppress

the essence? He grinds down his lenses with dedication,
testing the gameof light and shadow. The honed lens
suddenly squeals; a proof that the evil survives. In
the evening the happy Mephistopheles arrives, the
                     young master of the mistake, the wise

fellow speaker, the hedonist with whom it is a pleasure
to drink archival wines with the big game. Prudent,
he easily argues about the Gnostics, pro et contra God,
about his own schism, about morality and dogma





Шака мрака

Мастило је горко / ink is bitter

Књига промена

У дом за старе стигао је комунизам

Писма осамљеника

Глумци одлазе, сире

Бенгалска ватра глуме

Смрт је ловац самотан

Мачје, мишје и друге

Мирна кућа

Мефистов вез

С љубечитим штовањем

Вечерња благост

Тамни вилајет


Кад те заболи душа

Мали знаци неверства

Човек против себе

Хелена спава с мишицом под главом

Књига постања