"It's difficult, for me, to express myself in a visual language. There could be, in the idea itself of creation – of creaction – something, some thing that escapes passive description such as necessarily follows from conceptual language. In such language, which serves to designate objects, the word has just one sense, or two, and it keeps sonority prisoner. Break the form that it has trapped itself in, and new relations emerge: sonority exalts, sleeping secrets surge, one who listens is introduced to a world of vibrations that supposes a physical participation simultaneous with mental effort. Liberate breathsound in this way and every word becomes a signal. I'm linked, quite plausibly, to a poetic tradition here, tradition that is vague and in any case illegitimate. But the term 'poetry' itself seems to be a distortion. I might prefer instead: 'ontophonia'.

The one who opens the word, opens matter, and the word is only the material support of a quest, which has, as its goal, the transmutation of the real. More than situating myself in relation to a tradition, or a revolution, I apply myself to revealing an inadmissible resonance of being. Poetry is a 'silenciophone', the poem, the place of an operation, the word submitted to a series of sonic mutations, and each of its facets liberates the multiplicity of senses with which it is charged. Today I cover an expanse where uproar and silence knock into each other, where the poem takes the form of the soundwave that got it going. Better still: the poem eclipses itself before its own consequences. In other terms: I m'oralize."

[my translation from Luca's unpublished manuscript quoted in the preface by André Velter to Ghérasim Luca, Heros-Limite suivi de Le Chant de la carpe et de Paralipomѐnes (Gallimard 2001) xi-xii.]