The body is an archive
Discourse is a skin
Porous to the things we are
Born also without air
The body is not just body
The soul a machine-like work
Administering worlds, saving face
Though nothing will be saved
The body is mainly condition
A grace in which the concept
Moves where a center was
Where hands become like shade
Trembling what they're doing did
This system "what a body can do"
Spirit becomes a spirit-hinge
Attaching what will have been
Like Duchamp's Étant Donnés
Picture the difference within
The social life of machines
And the skin of social life
Withdrawn where there wasn't
A line this harrows so this
Becomes the point instead
Life without center spread.
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