“[The sensate body possesses] an art of interrogating the sensible according to its own wishes, an inspired exegesis” (Merleau-Ponty, The Visible and the Invisible).

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sensations are addictive…

the sensations
are addictive,
the mind
furious,
the senses
home bodies,
and the self
a worn riverbed;
knowledge itself
institutes dualism,
the presence of ignorance,
quiescence
is the infinitely
accidental.

one more day, closed ambiently…

one more day
closed ambiently
stagnantly
summer
covered over
fallen below
the sound of green stillness
smells a certain way
held on
gathered up
and sustained
as self
i hold health
but know not forever
waiting or denying
just holding
patience
for hope
and a feeling
ever-deepening
of conscience,
reconciliation,
and waiting
for an army of myself
outside
or a single beautiful bride
within or without.