for a long time already
we have childishly divided the ethics of aesthetics
Perhaps the first to understand it was Santoro:
"est ethical poetics".
if a work is correct in its aesthetic force it contains in itself
more gunpowder than the word gunpowder
and that ethic of beauty will awaken more consciences
than an already stale Marxist dictionary:
Marx was Marx because he invented -as an honest poet-
words that did not exist: unusual mixtures.
repeating his words today, to the benteveo, is prosaic.
only beauty reverses the order of things
only aesthetics pinch the steely arm of weary reality,
a well-played guitar chord is more revolutionary
than a protest song lacking the strong substrate of
the beautiful aesthetic violence.
any powerfully cute sculpture
any powerfully cute poetry
any powerfully cute movie
any gilguerito that sings beautifully in anonymous cornices
it will be a clenched fist hitting the flabby belly of the status quo.
if we go walking, shouting
repeating propositions that have already lost their slap
we are, poor of us, being the most useful servants
of this system.
only beauty is revolutionary.