There is Something Beyond

There is something beyond
These creases, proprioceptions,
Sozzled with desire, arabesque of yearnings
The body is a margin
For the soul's ample page;
Other things impinge beyond
All this flutter and fiddle
We come closer to animals
This way without the soul's grammar
An artless joissance, without
The grimoire of hope
Interweavings of presences and absences
Beyond gain and loss, the urge to merge
And emerge from the thicket
Of togetherness. Other voices call
That leaven living with line
And irradiate the maison
of the self, refusing to
Limit the haecities of the body
To its protoplasmic propulsions
Its cimmerian shames and deceptions,
Focussed on mere make-ups, break-ups
Away from the uncharted fastnesses of the soul.

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