Action is a Direct Poem

The body is a poem typing itself out in the type of taps of feet and turns of torso. As the arm extends past to push and retracts to pull the poem speaks toward you and away from me. But in that speaking sound the voice of the poem is my action. Not simply movement of mass. Not simply motion of form, but the conversation of convergences, of divergences, of an animated self in animation in animistic meaning making. It is a poem spread throughout the encountered world, selected. The selection is the prose, is the sense, is the tense. 

I have chosen this, not that, not yet that, almost that, yes, that.

If you hold your body in any one position, in any one routine, the poem dwindles and dulls and deadens. Move to speak, act to think, do it now, wink, blink, drink, sink, link, think.

Tell the poem of the body to become a mind that, blind to knowledge, ignores representation, always alert to presence and the soul of a motion, its motion, emotion in motion.