if life is a theme
then improvise
on a theme of life
all that's impressed on a body
by a body of language
delivered via usurping institutions
long before your body language
wiggles in opposition
wanting to go
this way
that way
against all those
when your body shows more to others
than language can see, can give you,
you're fending
against all others minus one
your body succumbs disappears
under force of language-
yet
before that
both were fiercely separate:
lust never lusting for language
but then
themes begin to overlap
like reused sackcloth
from darkest moral quarters
from where the quasi dead
still command
not only the still too liveliest
yet the near dead seize the body
by its word,
freeze it
within raging unreason
and all by order
of a theme:
an authoritative text
commanding