When we say poetry, economy is not the first word that comes to mind. And yet … without poets, the economy has degraded, it has entered areas only for insiders, has left the artists’ field of vision and, there, it has lost touch with fundamental dimensions of existence. For as long as a poet sees, looks at, sings about something – love, pain, a child – he is redeeming it from its mortal destiny. He etherealises it with his maieutic eyes: the first enemy of thanatos is the logos, in particular the poetic logos, which has the capacity to resurrect life.
The sad day when poets left the economy – when did that happen? – the economy became progressively dehumanised, it became merely techné. Day after day, it has settled for know-how and lost the know-why, it has forgotten the ‘hau’ (spirit) that inhabits things and protects them from our total manipulation, a hau that only poets, the only surviving seers in the twilight of the gods, can still discern or at least hear their groaning.