Mythmaker Poem by Peter Šulej

courageously approaching fin de millénaire
with a project of a new legend
as the old are so worn out
fit for nothing but a remix
of code sets and re-dis-interpretation

(hence it all started with a Rubic cube

we even saw forests changing before our eyes
and a long thread has been stretched
once and for ever between a koan and math)

to spread a myth of universal module
work it into all synoptic connections
and cry: „It´s a kind of HolyGrail
only we know what it can do.
What exactly? Everything. Evrything!"
to do that was not easy at all

(from our ruined docks
we saw phantoms of fragmentarisation sticking out
we fired at them thinking this is a computer game
and we still have a hell lot of lives.
Oh, error, that was just a hero
altering the file relations)

the mythmaker tiredly
closed his eyes
a familiar shape appeared: a shell
that´s what you´ll fly
to stars

English translation: Martin Solotruk