ABSTRACT
We can ee from one side to another, toward the enigma of divinity or toward the mystery of the monster, but we will always encounter the same plane of immanence and of composition: “that which a culture cannot understand” (without doubt, “the new,” that which is coming the day after tomorrow). This problematizes what we know about poetry, but also what we know about ourselves, and what we know about reading when classic humanist culture (or philology) and cybercultures collide in a cataclysm whose deafening din still resounds.
