I did not know that Mark Zuckerberg he was a poet or theorist of the poetic thing. Now it turns out that, abandoning all hope in verse and without entrusting himself to postpoetry malleutic nor to the virtual postverse, the millionaire and philanthropist of Chip and Chop appears as a Rescue Guardian and shows us his latest invention: the metaverse. I imagine that with great mastery of the algorithm – what else is poetry but some rhythm – of the arithometric and of the trophic chain, strophic and catastrophic in which he remains at the end, for his crop and for his buchaca, with the nutritional substances of the entire biological community.
That of metaverse sounds like metafiction. Like when someone says “my life is a poem & rdquor ;. Sounds like versolari larilari eh of Xuxa or Suchard. The CEO comes out with more face than back and says that we must invent a new fictional reality, that that is his goal (he does not remember that the metaverse is the meta-forgotten, and that we have arrived before). That he is the loose verse of the corporations and that he is going to recite a sonnet “but short”. Mark seems to have read DFW’s story ‘Death is not the end’ in a short interview with repulsive man. The story of the poet of poets, “the closest thing to a literary immortal living today & rdquor; Dressed in a size XL Speedo dry swimsuit. Mark may not know that creating a metaverse “requires sunrise and sunset & rdquor ;. But maybe Mark knows Máximo’s cartoon with the image of an outlined, earring bearded man who affirms “I am the poet of a multinational company & rdquor ;, and he has signed him with an indefinite contract and with medical and dental insurance.
Gadamer wondered – he was not the first, if we get platonic – back in 1990 “Does the poet still have a role in our civilization?” And Mark would want us all to enter his metaverse as servants of the glebality releasing the litany that of “how much I have I confess I owe you & rdquor ;. Mark masters the metaverse and knows that it will make us happier, as it seemed to Cristóbal de Mesa: “It is the imitative / nature poetry in all prosperous & rdquor ;. Mark knows that “the riches of the poet are in his poetry, / his power is held in his two hands & rdquor ;, as Schwartz (not Suchard) wrote. Mark dines at DiverXo or StreetXo or MetaverXo when he comes to Madrid after accompanying José Andrés to deliver giblet soup and mortadella sandwiches as digital donations for homeless. The Zuckerbergian metaverse doesn’t save us, but it keeps us entertained thanks to its gradual anthology. The metaverse is a mountain of sugar.